


Hexes and Curses are Futile Things

by aryiakirby



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-06-10 07:25:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15286668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aryiakirby/pseuds/aryiakirby
Summary: Draco made a few mistakes, now he's paying for them.





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter One  
“It’s permanent?” Narcissa Malfoy’s voice cut through the silence of the room.   
“It appears so, Mrs Malfoy,” Healer Pickett replied evenly, “From what I ‘ave examined, the curse appears to follow the same principle as felifors does. ‘owever, that spell is limited to cats and cauldrons.” Her accent was thick, thicker than Draco remembered  
“Could there be another spell?” His mother was desperate but she hid it well. “Please, Fiona.”  
“I’m sorry, Mrs Malfoy but until I research Draco’s predicament further, there’s nothing to be done,” Fiona replied sweetly and Draco couldn’t find it in himself to be mad. He felt numb and out of touch. The events of the morning flashed through his mind.  
“Mrs Malfoy, how is Lucius doing?”  
“Mrs Malfoy, does Azkaban allow you visitations?”  
“Draco, how are you feeling about attending Hogwarts for your final year?”  
“Draco, have you spoken with Harry Potter?”  
It was nothing out of the ordinary. The Malfoy name had been tarnished and they received questions and accusations on a regular base. It wasn’t out of the ordinary, Draco thought to himself.  
The day was going smoothly. His mother had taken him to Gringotts to set up a separate account with money entitled to him. It was quick, simple even. Their accountant promised them that the Ministry wouldn’t be able to deduct money from ‘young Mister Malfoy’s account who will be free to spend it however he likes’. As his mother turned, the accountant gave him a wink as if there was a secret between the two of them. What was the secret?  
Then they left. Draco and his mother were guided by Aurors and taken to the apparition point.   
Everything went silent. The shutter sound of the cameras ceased and Draco thought perhaps they had had enough. The crowd stopped yelling—finally, Draco thought. It wasn’t normal but it wasn’t out of the ordinary.  
The pain was not normal. A searing in the back of his head that was worse than any a headache. His lower back felt as though someone had taken a beater and was trying to force it through his skin. His shoulder blades were sliced from the tip of his shoulders to the centre of his back—at least that’s what it felt like. While Draco couldn’t see and couldn’t hear, he could definitely still feel. Not just the pain—although it was hard to not focus on it. He could also feel the magic in the air.  
“You’ve got a sixth sense, Draco.” It was his Father’s favourite game to test how well Draco could sense someone’s magic. Every night he would hide in the Manor and Draco would have to find him. He didn’t mind, it was the most fun his father and he ever had.  
He could feel the magic of his mother and the Aurors, he could still feel the magic of the crowd but there was something else that Draco couldn’t place. He reached out to the magic of those around him.  
His mother had the distinct feel of her paint room, it was entangled with the steady pulse of her magic.   
He passed her magic and grabbed onto the Aurors. They were very much similar in their feel. Draco knew Aurors took their work seriously but he could feel the need to protect and the loyalty and organization within their magic. That was normal. The things witches and wizards loved or valued were what their magic felt like.  
He skimmed over the crowd of people. Love, family, loyalty, Quidditch, Hogwarts, their hobbies, their favourite food, everything that was important to them. It was normal. It was all normal.   
Draco wondered how much time had passed.  
There was a surge of magic to the right of Draco. It was dark. He could feel it. A death eater. That can’t be right, Draco thought. His mother and he had made sure all the death eaters were captured, it was one of the main reasons they had gotten a light punishment. They had given every ounce of information on the Dark Lord and his followers that they could but as Draco grabbed onto the magic, there was no mistaking the passion for the Dark Arts. He pulled onto it. If a Death Eater was still roaming around Britain, Draco needed to know who it was. Especially, if they were responsible for the pain in his body.   
Draco used his magic to curl around the Death Eaters. He searched through it to get an idea of who it was. The person was strong but they were fueled by hatred and determination. As Draco tugged at the magic, it fell away like a loose rock and he knew he was close.  
“Never give up, Draco,” His father would say when Draco couldn’t find him. He would lay him in bed and brush his hair out of his face. “You’re more powerful than you think.”  
Draco carried on. He felt the magic of his mother curl around his body and he knew he didn’t have much time left. Just a few more minutes and then—  
The magic disappeared.  
“Draco, honey?” His mother shook him lightly on the shoulder, “Did you hear what Fiona said?”  
The memories of events passed washed away like footprints in the sand. The only reminder was the white wings sprouting from his back and the tail that was swishing dangerously close to the medicinal potions.  
“I beg your pardon, Fiona,” He replied evenly. If Draco had had a few more moments. Just a few more. He could have found the person.  
“It’s aight, Draco.” She brushed away his apology, “I asked if ya remembered anything, from the incident?”  
Yes.  
“No. I remember walking to the apparition point and then I woke up here.”  
“That’s a pity, that is. Anyways, I’ll keep researching and let ya know if I find anything,” Fiona assured, “It was wonderful seeing ya again, Mrs Malfoy.”  
“And you, dear. You’re always welcome at the Manor. Why don’t you bring Beau and your son to dinner this Thursday? We’d love to have you over.” While it sounded as though his mother was offering a suggestion, both Fiona and Draco knew there was no backing out.  
“‘Hat sounds wonderful, Mrs Malfoy.”  
His mother smiled at her graciously and then turned to Draco and whispered a few words before leaving the room. Draco stood up to follow.  
“A word, Draco?”  
“Of course, Healer Pickett,” Draco replied politely. It made her laugh.  
“I ‘ave known ya since you were a wee baby, it’s alright if ya call me Fiona,” She said, “I know this must be ‘ard—” She gestured to his tail and wings, “—And there’s only so much I can do as your friend and Healer.” It sounded more like she was saying ‘Ealer’. “The best advice I can give ya right now? Talk to those you trust, they might be able to help ya and at the very least, they’ll be a shoulder to cry upon.”  
“Malfoys don’t cry, Fiona. You know this,” Draco scolded her but she just laughed and muttered something under her breath.  
“I was there when ya were born, I know for a fact you’re the biggest crybaby,” She giggled at herself. They sat in silence for a bit and Draco decided it was probably time to leave.  
“Thank you, Fiona. I, uh…” He couldn’t find the words to say. Draco was never this casual but the day had been unusually exhausting and he wanted nothing more than to fall asleep.  
“No need, Draco, just looking out for a friend,” She said, “I’m gonna give you a quick spell that will help ya with…” She gestured broadly and it made Draco grin the tiniest bit.  
He stood still as Fiona pulled out her wand and demonstrated the movements and words for the spell. He practised until she was pleased but still insisted on casting it herself.  
“‘Ave a look,” She said and held a mirror for him to look into. He looked normal, just like he did every other day. There were no scaly white wings or tails to be seen. If he could just obliviate the past day, he could pretend everything was okay.  
“Spin around.”  
“Fiona,” Draco murmured and gave her a look, “I’m going to knock over everything.”  
She laughed and just repeated the same thing. He shook his head but slowly lifted his arms and turned around in a circle. He listened for the sound of things being knocked over and potions smashing but all he could hear was Fiona’s snort of laughter.  
“What?” He exclaimed and spun around to face her.  
“You were concentrating so ‘ard,” She giggled, “The spell makes ya tail and wings intangible, silly.”  
“You could have told me that.” Draco folded his arm and felt a bit stupid for being so worried.  
Fiona stared at him with a grin on her face and he could feel his lips twitch upwards.  
“I’ll see ya on Thursday.”  
He nodded and exited the room. He walked cautiously, still thinking his tail would knock things over but as he made it to the Floo, all the apprehension was gone.   
His mother was waiting for him by the Floo. She was wearing blue. A pretty blue blouse with a black pencil skirt. It was simple and yet, she looked so elegant.  
Draco walked up to her and in a display of uncharacteristically playfulness, he did three spins to demonstrate the disappearance of his tail and wings. His mother giggled at him and swatted his arm.  
“Draco, behave.”  
He stopped spinning but his lips remained turned upwards.  
“Come here,” His mother said and pulled him down into an embrace. “I think it’s best if you stay out of the public’s eyes, Draco. Just for a little while,” She whispered into his ear.   
His smile dropped and he sighed. His mother was right, though. If anyone caught wind of that fact that he had sprouted scaly, white wings and tails, the Malfoy name was as good as a broken broom.  
He nodded.  
She pulled away and looked at him, “My sweet boy. I am so sorry this happened.” She brushed a piece of hair off his face. “Let’s go home.”  
“Okay,” Draco responded.   
His mother grabbed some Floo powder and threw it into the fire pit.  
“Malfoy Manor,” She said and the fire roared green. Draco didn’t like Flooing—the soot got in his hair and on his clothes—but his Mother made it look effortless. You couldn’t even tell she had just come through the fireplace, not a hair was out of place. His father was the same.  
He watched as she disappeared into the flames and then he reached for a handful of Floo powder.  
“Malfoy?”  
Draco hesitated but released the powder into the firepit and stepped in.  
“Malfoy!”  
Draco turned around and saw Potter and his friends staring at him. He scowled. No doubt Potter would think he was up to something.  
“Malfoy Manor,” He hissed but didn’t break his stare with Potter. The fire lit up an emerald green but through it, all Draco could still see Potter. Bloody Potter.  
The fire wrapped around him and threw him out into the Manor’s sitting room. His mother was long gone, most likely in her chambers or the gardens.  
Draco wandered up to his own room and threw opened the door. He flopped down on his bed. Bloody Potter.

The weeks past slowly. Fiona, her wife, and their son came to visit that Thursday. They arrived at five o’clock on the dot. The ladies sat and chatted in the drawing room and forced Evangeline onto Draco. He wasn’t sure what the poor child wanted to do so he took him out to the gardens where they sat in silence until six thirty. Beau then took her son away from Draco and they all shared a meal together. At eight o’clock, Evangeline grew tired and the Pickett’s bid them farewell. Draco’s mother waved them goodbye and then decided to go for a wander through the gardens. Draco stared at her before resigning to his room. A day later, Fiona sent an OWL commenting on the strangeness of Draco’s condition. She couldn’t find anything about it.  
February passed and March came.  
On the first day of March, Draco received a surprising invitation to Ronald Weasley’s 20th birthday party. He politely declined.   
On the 16th of March, Draco received the official invitation to the reopening of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He stared at the letter for a while. There were two boxes: I will be attending and I will not be attending. The questions ran through Draco’s mind.   
His mother came in a while later, laid a gentle hand on his shoulder, and guided his hand to the box.   
“Better sit this one out, darling,” She said and even though they were sugar sweet, it was a slap of reality. This would be the constant now. One mistake and his secrets would be visible to the public.   
He ticked the box and sent the owl on its way.  
The rest of March passed and April came.  
On the first day of April, Draco received another surprising owl from yet another Weasley. This time it was the remaining twin. Draco declined.  
April passed and May came.  
This month, Draco received no owls for birthday parties but the Daily Prophet made sure to update him regularly. The Golden Trio and Ginevra Weasley were spotted taking a vacation in Barbados.   
Draco unsubscribed from the Daily Prophet.  
May passed and June came.  
The Pickett’s came over for dinner two weeks before Draco’s birthday. They gave him two gifts, a miniature broom that was about the size of his finger and would fly around randomly. And they got him a holiday to Paris.   
Draco thanked them.  
On the morning of Draco’s birthday, he received exactly seven owls.  
They went in this order:  
‘Hi, Malfoy,  
Happy Birthday.  
Harry Potter’

‘Malfoy,  
Congratulations on your birthday.  
Ron’  
Draco thought that was quite funny.

‘Dear Malfoy,  
Happy Birthday. I hope the year has treated you well-’  
It had treated him very poorly.  
‘-Hope to see you at Hogwarts in September.  
Have a wonderful day.  
Sincerely,  
Hermione Granger’  
At least one-third of the Golden Trio knew how to write a decent letter.

‘Hello, Draco,  
The world has spun another rotation. You are now 20.  
Happy day of your birth. I’ve included a spray that should keep the nargles away.  
Let me know whether it works.  
Luna Lovegood’

‘My beloved Draco,  
How are you, my dear? We must catch up again. I’m currently spending the year in America where I will remain until Hogwarts drags me back to that dreadful place. Honestly Draco, you should take a vacation. I saw a picture of you in the Daily Prophet and I have to say, you’re looking quite pale.   
Is everything alright?  
I’ve included a postcard.  
Reply soon.  
Love,  
Pansy’

‘What’s up,   
Happy birthday, mate.  
I’m currently in Thailand right now and then I’m on my way to India.   
You should take a vacation.  
Let me know how you are.  
Talk soon,  
Blaise’

‘Not sure why I’m writing this.   
Apparently, I need ‘to forgive others’.  
Whatever.  
Happy birthday.  
Ginevra Weasley’

Draco wasn’t sure what drove him to do it. Probably the self-help book his mother had given him as a birthday present. He wrote back his replies to the letters and they went in this order:  
‘Dear Potter,  
Thank you for the adequate birthday card.  
Draco Malfoy’

‘Dear Weasley,  
I’m quite surprised to say it but, you have a sense of humour?  
Who’d have known?  
Draco Malfoy’

‘Dear Granger,  
My year has been well. Thank you for asking. You will indeed see me at Hogwarts.  
I must say, I’m glad one of you know how to write a birthday card.  
Draco Malfoy’

‘Dear Luna,  
Thank you for the spray.  
You may be happy to find that the spray seems to have worked as I have not been bothered by any nargles?  
Draco Malfoy’

‘My gorgeous Pansy,  
I am well.   
While your adventures sound exciting and the postcards look beautiful (your companion looks lovely), I’m afraid to say it, but the Ministry has prohibited me from travelling outside of Britain for the year.   
My skin looks just fine.  
I need to tell you something.  
Love,  
Draco Malfoy’

‘Ah, my good friend Blaise,  
Thailand, huh? I have to say, I’m quite jealous.  
I have to tell you something.  
Talk soon,  
Draco Malfoy’

‘Dear Ginevra,  
I am surprised to hear from you. Nevertheless, thank you.  
I wish you well during your holidays.  
Draco Malfoy’

June passed and July came.  
While Draco had in fact, unsubscribed to the Prophet, it didn’t stop him from hearing about the preparations for Harry Potter’s birthday.   
The house elves talked non-stop about the decorations and food and guests and events that were happening in celebration of the Boy Who Lived. Draco felt sick. He couldn’t even listen to the wireless without hearing about Harry Potter.  
A week before Potter’s birthday, the minister announced a public holiday on the 31st July. Draco rolled his eyes. But when the day finally came, Draco tied a nicely written birthday card to his favourite owl and watched as it flew away. Perhaps this was the start of something.  
July passed and August came.  
Draco had another checkup with Healer Pickett but nothing new was known. Fiona taught him a powerful concealment charm that could last a whole week.  
“Only for emergencies,” she said.  
“Only for emergencies,” He repeated.  
Draco had less than a month left of holidays. He still had not told Pansy or Blaise of his condition.  
“Draco, darling,” His mother knocked on his bedroom door before entering, “I got Nobny to gather your school equipment. Would you like to come down for dinner?”  
“Thank you, Mother, but I will just have dinner in here, tonight.”  
His mother nodded in understanding and closed the door shut behind her.  
Draco lay back down with a flop. He heard one of the house elves apparate with a pop and set the tray down along with something else—a quick glance told him to was his school items—and then disapparated with a bop.  
The last day of August was chaotic, to say in the least.  
Draco had accidentally ‘misplaced’ his newest wand and his mother spent the whole morning searching the Manor. They found it on top of the cardboard in one of the guest's bedroom. His mother was extremely suspicious of how it got there but Draco insisted he had no idea.   
They then spent the whole morning packing his supplies and clothes into a trunk.  
His mother disappeared for a couple hours and came back with a bundle of fluffy black fur.  
“I am not taking that to Hogwarts, Mother,” Draco said. He stared at the ball of fluff with apprehension, it miaowed back at him.  
“Darling! Look at it,” She shoved the kitten into his face, “It’s adorable.” His mother was acting weird, “My therapist said that animal companionship was the best way to get over the trauma.”  
“I am not a traumatised little boy, Mother,” Draco growled, he felt quite offended she would think that.  
“Oh, Draco, I know that. You know I don’t like animals though and I am not allowed to take him back.” She was trying to guilt trip him and damn it! It was working. The kitten miaowed again.  
“Fuck,” He whispered and then snapped his head up to see if his mother heard. She appeared not too. “Alright! I’ll take him.”  
His mother gently shoved the kitten into his arms and wandered into the paint room.  
August passed and September came.  
“Draco! Hurry dear, or you’ll be late,” His mother called for him.  
“Coming, mother,” He called back. His voice echoed within the quiet halls of Malfoy Manor.  
“Everything okay?”  
“Just finishing the concealment charms.”  
His mother frowned, “I promise you, we’ll sort it out.”  
“I know we will.”  
She reached over and brushed his cheek with her fingers, they were as cold as ice.   
She withdrew and grabbed a handful of Floo powder, “Platform 9 ¾ .”  
Draco followed her, a small fluff ball clutched to his chest and his trunk in his other hand.  
The platform was bustling with wizards and witches. Draco watched as a group of first years passed by with squawking owls. That use to be him.  
“I have a few things to do in Diagon Alley. You’re alright, dear?” His mother’s worried voice sounded like a distant buzz as an overwhelming sense of dread overcame him. He was going back to Hogwarts. A castle that he had helped destroy. Lives he helped destroy.  
“Draco!” His mother shook his shoulder, “What happened?”  
He blinked and replied, “I’m fine, mother. I was just distracted by my thoughts.”  
She gave him a look but refrained from commenting.  
“I’ll see you on the Christmas holidays.”  
“Goodbye, mother,” Draco whispered. He was startled when she pulled him into a hug.  
“I love you, Draco. As does your father,” Her voice was barely above a whisper.  
“I know,” Draco replied.  
The Hogwarts Express honked and Draco let go of his mother. He lifted his trunk and walked towards the train. Pansy and Blaise were most likely already sitting in a compartment, the trouble was finding them. Draco stumbled through the hall and towards the back of the train. He hadn’t seen any of his classmates and he didn’t know whether he was thankful or worried.  
“Draco!”  
He turned his head and looked in the compartment he had just passed. Blaise and Pansy were sitting across from each other and they looked as though they had just been in the deep conversation.  
“How was America, darling?” Draco asked once he had stuffed his trunk in the overhead compartment and taken the seat to Pansy’s left. Not for the first time that morning, he was glad no one could see or feel his, disfigurements.  
“No, wait! We aren’t talking about that right now,” Pansy swung her legs onto his lap and took the kitten from his arm, “What is this!”  
“Fuck me, Draco,” Blaise laughed, “You have a bloody kitten?”  
He folded his arms.  
Pansy giggled and curled the kitten against her cheek.  
“Mother gave it to me.” He waved a hand in the air.  
“It’s adorable!”  
“He or she?” Blaise asked.  
“He.”  
“What’s his name?” Pansy asked the kitten was still snuggled up to her face.  
“I,” Draco paused, “Haven’t got him a name?”  
“What!” It was creepy as fuck when both Pansy and Blaise yelled out at the same time.  
Draco lifted his hands in surrender, “I haven’t got around to it!”  
“How can you not name him!”  
“You have to name him!”  
“Oh my god. Well, what do you think I should name him?” Draco asked he wasn’t looking forward to their ideas.  
“Yvon!” Pansy said.  
“No,” Draco replied.  
“Alix?”  
Draco thought about that. Alix, there was something easy about the name.  
“Yes,” He answered, “I like it.”   
Blaise grinned and turned to Pansy—who was glaring so hard—and poked his tongue at her.  
She lunged for him but Draco had already seen it starting to happen. He grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her back down to the seat. He was laughing hard. His stomach cheeks hurt. Blaise was laughing too, he was clutching his stomach. Pansy was trying so hard to keep a straight face but as Draco and Blaise kept laughing, he cracks a smile.  
“God, shut up Blaise! You’re such a child.”  
“Oh, I know!” Blaise mockingly flipped his hair.  
The room went silent. Pansy was stroking the kitten and Draco felt his stomach twist. No way in hell, he argued to himself, you’re not jealous over a fucking kitten, aren’t you?  
“Alright, give him to me.” Draco pulled the kitten from Pansy’s arm and even though she protested, she didn’t seem to mind.  
Alix miaowed. Draco scratched him along under the chin and smiled when he lifted it higher.  
Blaise snorted and Draco flipped him the finger.  
Pansy turned back to her magazine and every so often, licked her finger and turned the page. Blaise turned back to his book as well, ‘101 tricks for wandless dummies’.  
The landscape zoomed past.  
*****  
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry looked the exact same as it had, nine long years ago. It was a marvel to see the castle rebuilt. He had been one of the many that helped fix it but he hadn’t gotten to see the final reveal.   
Alix miaowed and a few students glanced over. They looked surprised to see a kitten in his arms and Draco assumed it was because of his big scary Dark Mark.   
When a couple of students caught his eye, he scowled at them.  
The only people that hadn’t glanced his way was the Golden Trio. Draco wasn’t upset by it. He wasn’t. Who cared if Potter and his imbecile friends ignored him, he was better off without them. No doubt Potter would think he was going to torture the poor kitten. Granger would probably force him to read twenty books on the care of magical kittens. Weasley would just glare and whisper something to Potter. The saviours of the wizarding world, what a load of bullshit.  
His tail twitched.  
“I expected,” Pansy paused and tapped a finger to her chin, “A different vibe. Do you know what I mean?”  
Blaise snorted, “Pansy, Hogwarts has a reputation to uphold. In the same way, Draco wouldn’t be Draco without his obsession with Potter.”  
Draco—who had been thinking of Potter at the moment—glared at Blaise with the fury of five dragons. Blaise remained nonchalant.  
“I do not, obsess,” He spat the word like a rotten apple, “Over Potter!”  
“Draco, honey, yes you do,” Pansy sang. Her arm was looped through his and even though he towered over her, she managed to keep up with his strides.  
“Look me in the eyes and tell me you weren’t just thinking of Potter.”  
Draco silently stared ahead and when Blaise let out a whoop of victory, his tail twitched.  
“I fucking knew it.”  
Alix miaowed.  
“Blaise Zabini, you watch your language!”   
The eighth-year students stopped dead in their tracks. A few snickered at Blaise but clamped right up when Headmistress McGonagall came into view.  
Now, Blaise had never been one to fear authority but when it came to McGonagall, he became as obedient as a puppet on a string.  
“Pardon me, Headmistress.”  
“Not to worry, Mr Zabini as I am sure it won’t happen again,” Her voice was as sharp as a ruler against a desk. Draco was sure even the mightiest wizards and witches would cower in their seats at the sight of her.  
Blaise nodded his head.  
“Wonderful.” She clasped her hands together, “Welcome back. I am pleased to see the majority of you have returned. Unfortunately, there is a handful that will not be joining us this year.”  
Vincent Crabbe, Lavender Brown, Zacharias Smith, and Gregory Goyle, to name a few.  
Alix miaowed.  
“You have all suffered a great ordeal. I will not make it greater be rambling on but I have one thing to say. The younger students look up to you and I expect you to behave but I know better than to demand perfection. I know many of you have not had the privilege of a normal childhood, consider this year a re-do.”  
Draco felt the speech was aimed towards one person in particular.  
“As for your bedrooms, we have decided against allowing you to return to your common houses.” Majority of the students groaned. McGonagall held up her hand, “We have instead, relocated you to the seventh floor. You are assigned roommates to share the quarters with, I expect you all to be friendly to one another. The rooms are located at the very end of the corridor behind the portrait of Flossie Hill. The password for the portrait is, “There is no I in a team.”  
The eighth-year students began to move in the direction of the staircases.  
“Wait, students,” Headmistress McGonagall called, “I will read off your partners. When you hear your names, you may leave and unpack. To begin, Hannah Abbott, Susan Bones, and Millicent Bulstrode will be staying in Room A.”  
Hannah and Susan grinned at each other and walked off while a frowning Millicent wandered behind.  
“Mandy Brocklehurst, Tracey Davis, and Hermione Granger, you will be in Room B.”  
Draco was bemused at the group but Granger didn’t look at all upset, he assumed that was because her other option was Daphne Greengrass, who was a force to be reckoned with.  
“Daphne Greengrass, Megan Jones, and Sue Li, Room C.”  
None of them looked sad nor happy at the grouping.  
“Morag MacDougal, Eloise Midgen, and Lily Moon, Room D.”  
Lily Moon was suspiciously resemblant of Luna Lovegood and Draco wasn’t sure whether the world had turned wacky or he had. He wasn’t sure who Morag MacDougal was.  
“Parvati Patil, Pansy Parkinson, and Sally-Anne Perks, Room E.”  
Draco glanced at Pansy who shrugged, “Could be worse.”  
“Sally Smith and Lisa Turpin you will be together in Room F.”  
Don’t know who they are, Draco thought, don’t really care.  
“Gentlemen, listen up,” McGonagall quieted the remaining eight years, “Terry Boot, Michael Corner, and Stephen Cornfoot, you will be in Room 2A.”  
Draco rolled his eyes as the boys hooted.  
“Kevin Entwhistle, Justin Finch-Fletchley, and Seamus Finnigan, Room 2B.”  
They looked gleeful at the combination.  
“Anthony Goldstein, Wayne Hopkins, and Neville Longbottom.”  
Interesting decision, McGonagall.  
“Ernest MacMillan, Roger Malone, and Theodore Nott, Room 2C.”  
Who the fuck is Roger Malone? Also, why was Draco’s name not called? If McGonagall was, in fact, going in alphabetical order, Draco Malfoy should have been after MacMillan.  
“Harry Potter, Oliver Rivers, and Dean Thomas, Room 2D.”  
Thomas slung his arms around Potter and Rivers and pulled them away.  
“Ronald Weasley and Blaise Zabini, you will be in Room 2E. Off you go,” Headmistress McGonagall dismissed them with a wave of her hand. Blaise looked at Draco with pity before awkwardly walking next to Weasley.  
Draco watched the floor as he waited for Headmistress McGonagall to speak. He had obviously done something wrong. He just didn't know what.  
“Mister Malfoy,” McGonagall began, “You are not in trouble.”  
Draco’s head snapped up. He wasn’t in trouble.  
“Your mother has notified me of your unfortunate situation.”  
Of course, she had.   
“I understand you wish to keep it from the public, a wise decision. That is why I have placed you alone. It would not do to have one make a mistake that could reveal your situation.”  
Draco nodded. He agreed. If the spell came off when he was sleeping or if he forgot to replace the spell, any one of his roommates would know his secret.   
“You will be in Master Chambers. It’s behind the portrait of Chimera and the password is ‘go out on a limb’,” She repeated the password for him again.  
“Everyone has had a tough few years, Draco, but it has been especially had on you.”  
That was not where he thought she was going.  
“I want to apologize on behalf of all the professors.” She laid a bony hand on his shoulder, “We were not there for you when you needed us. When I took this job I made a promise to guide students toward their potential but I have not done that for you.”  
There was a beat of silence. Draco felt invisible hands clenching around his throat.  
“Off you go, Mister Malfoy. Get some rest.” She turned on her heels but stopped, “Oh and I’ll get one of the elves to set up a bed for your kitten. I’ll allow you to bring him to class, just this once.” Then she continued into the Great Hall in a blur of purple robes.  
The hall became disturbingly quiet except for the small miaowing from Alix.  
Draco thought about McGonagall’s words. They had failed him, for many years but they could hardly be blamed for his decisions.   
He had chosen to take the Dark Mark. He had chosen to fight for the Dark Lord. He had chosen to torture and murder because he was too afraid to stand up to the Death Eaters and their leader. He wished he could pass the blame over to those around him but Draco had made those decisions and there was nothing he could do to fix it.   
Alix lifted his head and miaowed at him.  
“You ready for bed?” Draco whispered and in response, Alix licked his hand.  
He exhaled and he pulled himself from the wall he was leaning on. He wandered through the castle to the seventh floor and along the corridor until he saw the portrait of Flossie Hill. Draco cleared his throat and Flossie turned bored eyes his way.  
“Yes?”  
Draco thought she was extremely rude.  
“There is no I in a team.”  
The portrait split in half and opened inwards to reveal a circular common room. It was interesting how different it was to the Slytherin room. However, what was most interesting were the colours. It was a mixture of red, yellow, blue, and green. There were couches, tables, chairs, bean bags, and pillows all in different variety of colours. Three couches were arranged in a semi-circle and a firepit was covering one side. The couches were green, red, and yellow. Draco thought it was quite unpleasing to the eye.  
Draco took everything in.   
There were six doors, each had a gold plaque on the front with writing on it. Draco could see Room A, Room B, Room C, and all the others rooms but he wasn’t quite sure which one was his.   
A few students glanced his way as he walked through the common room but most ignored him. Draco was fine with it.   
The door of Room 2E swung open and Blaise stormed out.  
“Draco!” He exclaimed, “Thank Merlin for you. I think I was about ready to-” He made a throat cut gesture and sighed, “-I can’t deal with Weasley. He insists on having the right bed when I have clearly already put my trunk on the bed and marked it as mine and the room is already messy! We only got here an hour ago and somehow he has messed up the bloody room. I swear to Merlin, Gryffindors are relentless. Every single one of them has insisted on coming in and exploring his room. They don’t even care that I’m in the room! They sit on my bed and chat and chat and chat. Honestly, I don’t think they ever shut up. I practically had to throw Potter and Granger out of the room.”  
Blaise was scratching his forearm relentlessly. Draco grabbed his hand and held it on his own. He also passed Alix over to him.  
“Blaise, we all know Weasley is a bastard whose too poor to afford to shelve but you’re spending the rest of the year with him, better get over it.”  
Blaise glared at him but held onto his hand for a minute longer. They sat like that until the fire had dulled and only a few remained in the common room.  
“I should go. Who knows what mess Weasley has made now,” Blaise said and he passed Alix back over to Draco. The door to Room 2E slammed shut.  
Draco stood up as well. He glanced around the common room. Behind the artwork of the chimaera. There was no artwork of a chimaera. There were six doors and multiple artworks of mythical landscapes but not a single artwork involving a chimaera. Thanks a lot, McGonagall.  
The room was too stuffy. Draco needed some air. No one asked where he was going. Good, he thought, I don’t need people in my business.  
The hall was much more open. The eighth-year dormitories were at the very end of the seventh floor and the only thing there was the portrait of Flossie Hill and—  
An artwork of a fucking chimaera.  
How had he not noticed it, it took up half of the wall? If two Hippogriffs stood on top of each other, they would just be as tall as the artwork. Likewise, it was as long as three of his broomsticks.   
The chimaera looked very comfortable in its portrait. It had laid down and the lion had rested its head on its paws, the goat had its head in the lion’s mane, and the serpent had wrapped its body around the lion and goat.  
Draco cleared his throat awkwardly.   
The serpent lifted its head, the lion and the goat opened their eyes.  
“Go out on a limb,” Draco said. The animal huffed but soon enough, a doorknob appeared in the centre-right of the portrait. Draco turned the knob and went inside.  
He almost snorted at the sheer dramatics of it all. The room was superb. He daresay that it nearly put his own chambers to shame.   
There was a king-sized bed in the middle of the room with beautiful purple and gold curtains draped around it. There was a wardrobe to the left and his trunk had already been unpacked—he would never be caught dead saying it but house elves were such a gift. To the right was a large bay window that extended a meter out and had a built-in couch. Draco could see over most of the forbidden forest. The floor was grey carpeting that felt like fluff on his feet. The room even had a bookshelf with so many books that Draco couldn’t even guess the number. There was even a door that led to a private bathroom.  
“Merlin’s–fucking–ball sack,” Draco murmured and sat on the bed, “This is nice.”  
It was really nice.  
Alix miaowed.  
“Right, sorry Al,” He muttered. He glanced around the room. McGonagall had said there would be a bed for him somewhere.  
He finally found it in the right corner next to a bookshelf and a desk. He gently placed Alix on the cat bed, which was very grand for a cat. Alix seemed happy with it though because he went right to sleep as soon as Draco placed him down. He agreed, a nap sounded very nice right now.  
Draco made a mental list of all the things he would do in the room.   
Wank  
Read every book in the bookshelf  
Sit in the bay window  
Wank again  
Practice spell work  
His eyes closed but he continued making the list.  
Write a letter to Mother  
Break the bloody curse  
Ask the house elves to bring food  
Take a shower  
Take a piss  
Practice nonverbal spells  
The room fell silent as Draco’s breathing slowed and his murmuring stopped. Tomorrow he would finish his list. Right now, he needed to sleep.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoy!!!!

**Chapter Two**

Draco found it easy to get back into the habit of Hogwarts. It had been two years and maybe more since he was last here but it felt like just yesterday he was eating breakfast with Pansy, Blaise, Greg, and Vincent. 

The classes were easy too. Most of the topics they were going to be studying, Draco already knew. His father had made sure to continue his schooling during the war. The Dark Lord had requested it.

_ “We need the young boy to keep up his intelligence, won’t be good if he’s no longer of use to me.” _ The Death Eaters had laughed and his father had nervously chuckled but when the Dark Lord looked Draco in the eyes, he knew there was nothing funny about it.

“Welcome, eighth years!” A younger looking man stood at the front of the DADA classroom. Draco inhaled sharply. Holy mother of God. The man continued speaking when the class went silent, “My name is Eric Jackson but please call me Professor Jackson. I will be filling in for the role of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor until Headmistress McGonagall finds another.”

“Will they be as hot as you?”

Draco just knew it was Pansy. She had mastered the act of yelling inappropriate things without anyone knowing it was her.

The most surprising thing was that Eric laughed.

“Inappropriate!” He scolded but he still had a smile on his face. He turned around to the desk and sorted through some papers. Draco tried really hard to keep his eyes up, he really did but goddamn.

“Alrighty because I’m new, I’m going to read out your name. Please reply with here or something similar.”

He began with Hannah Abbott, Susan Bones, and Terry Boot. He continued down the list until he got to Draco’s name.

“Draco Malfoy?” He asked and lifted his head to look around the class.

“Here,” Draco replied and raised his hand the slightest bit. Professor Jackson smiled at him and looked back down at his notepad. Draco felt like his heart was going to explode.

“He’s gorgeous, isn’t he?” 

Draco turned to Pansy who was resting her head in her hand. 

Alix, who had been sleeping on his desk, yawned and let out a small miaow.

“He’s a fucking angel,” Blaise replied, startling both Pansy and Draco. When they looked at him, he just shrugged, “He is.”

“I thought you were still questioning?” Draco asked.

“Not anymore,” Blaise replied. He was still staring at Professor Jackson who had just finished calling Potter’s name.

“That’s great to hear, Blaisey,” Pansy said but she too had turned her attention back to the Professor.

“Yeah, I’m happy for you.” Blaise turned and grinned at Draco. They held eye contact for a few more moments before Draco cleared his throat and turned back to face the front. He propped his head into his hands and prayed that no one noticed his flushed cheeks. Alix seemed to notice because he came and licked Draco’s face.

“Stop it,” He whispered and scratched under his jaw. He could feel Blaise glance at him but Draco kept his eyes on Alix.

Draco was happy for Blaise. He really was. But it brought back memories of holidays at the Manor when Blaise would sleepover for weeks at a time. When they were just young boys figuring out what they liked and didn’t. Blaise was Draco’s first crush, first kiss, and his first time. They had been  _ ‘together’ _ —Draco didn’t really think of it like that—since the middle of fourth year. Then at the start of sixth year Blaise told Draco that he didn’t want to be ‘together’ anymore. Yes, it wasn’t supposed to hurt so much but it hit him like a fucking train. Yes, Blaise was Draco’s best friend. And yes, Draco was going to pretend he didn’t mind. But it hurt. A lot.

Professor Jackson clapped his hands together and those that were dozing off, nearly fell out of the seats.

“I understand a few of you were not here during Seventh year?”

They murmured in agreement. Draco was at the Manor. Pansy had gone to Moscow with her mother and Blaise had joined. According to the  _ Daily Prophet _ , the Golden Trio were off hunting for a way to kill the Dark Lord, Dean Thomas had gone into hiding, many of the remaining students were staying in the Room of Requirements. All of them had missed majority of the Seventh Year.

“Okay, right. So, the headmistress has asked me to go over what you learnt in seventh year as well as some more advanced techniques.” Eric stopped talking and wrote  _ ‘Topics’  _ on the blackboard. “We will be doing some theoretical learning but mainly practical.” A few students cheered at that. “For theory, I want us to study thestrals, inferius, basilisks, and unicorns. Can anyone tell me a distinct fact about each creature.

_ Thestrals: only visible to those who have witnessed death and accepted it. Inferius: dead bodies reanimated with Dark magic. Basilisks: giant serpent. Unicorns: silver blood that can save a person from death. _

“Yes, Miss Granger?”

“Thestrals are only visible to those who have witnessed someone's death and accepted the reality.” Granger answered, she went to continue but Professor Jackson shook his head.

“Very good, Miss Granger but I’m going to get someone else to answer the next.”

Granger didn’t look upset by this but simply nodded and went quiet.

“Who knows about the Inferi?”

No one raised their hand. It wasn’t common knowledge what an inferius was exactly. Most pureblood families told tales of inferi as a bedtime story, like the boogeyman but no one knew what they were.

“Mister Potter, what do you know about the Inferi?”

Draco was interested to hear this. Potter wouldn’t have grown up on stories and surely he wasn’t taught about the Inferi? They were Dark creatures. The Chosen One surely didn’t know about them?

“It’s a corpse brought back with Necromancy,” Potter answered calmly. It was probably the easiest explanation Draco had ever heard and it came from Potter of all people.

“That is correct, Mister Potter. Well done.” Eric praised. Of course he would. “Moving on. What do you know about the creature, Basilisk?”

Weasley stuck his hand up this time.

“Mister Weasley?”

“A giant serpent that can kill a wizard by making eye contact with them.” Draco thought that Weasley sounded a bit too happy while saying that sentence.

“Yes, fantastic.” Professor Jackson laughed, “You all know so much.” The eighth years chuckled at that. “Mister Malfoy,”

Oh shit. Alix poked his head out of Draco’s robes.

“Holy… Is that a kitten, Draco?” Professor Jackson asked. Yes, McGonagall had given him permission to take Alix to class but did Professor Jackson know that?

“Oh my god, it’s adorable.” Professor Jackson walked up to where Draco was sitting. All the other students watched as he came closer to him. For once, he hated the attention.

“Can I hold him? Her?”

“Him and yeah,” Draco replied. He took Alix from his robes and handed him to Professor Jackson.

“Can I have him for the class?”

“Um…” Draco felt hesitant. He really liked having Alix with him but honestly, Professor Jackson looked adorable while cuddling Alix. “Sure.”

They all watched as Jackson’s face broke into a smile and he practically skipped to the front of the class. A couple students kept watching Draco for a bit, analysing him or trying to figure out what he wanted. After a while they got bored and turned back to the front where Professor Jackson was standing.

“Alrighty! What was I saying?”

Hermione raised her hand.

“Miss Granger?”

“You were about to ask about Unicorns, professor,” Granger answered sweetly. Draco looked at her. Not just glanced but actually looked at her. He hadn’t seen her for over two years—not including articles—and she had changed, a lot. The young, snobby, know-it-all Gryffindor that was always sure she was right, had simmered down. From what Draco could see at least.

“Oh right. Uh,” Professor Jackson looked at Draco, “Mister Malfoy, can you answer the question?”

Flashbacks of his first year and witnessing the dead unicorn entered his mind.

“Unicorns are white beings that have many magical properties. Their hair is used in many wands but their blood is the most potent.” He could almost see Quirrell’s body bent over the unicorn. “The blood is silver and can heal those on the brink of death.”

“Very well done, Draco! That’s correct.”

His heart was beating.

Professor Jackson continued on with the lesson. He talked about the practical side the year. Draco zoned out, his mind on other things. He remained like that for the rest of the day.

DADA continued for two lessons. Draco stopped at the Great Hall to get a bite but didn’t stay long, the concealment spell was wearing off and he had to renew it. He dipped into an empty classroom and cast the spell. When he exited the classroom, Potter was passing by.

“Malfoy? What are you doing?”

“What does it matter to you, Potter.”

Draco was three minutes later to Herbology.  _ Blood Potter _ .

He spent two lessons in Charms after Herbology. Professor Flitwick gave them pairs for the rest of the year. Draco was partnered with Oliver Rivers who didn’t seem the least bit bothered by being partnered with him.

Pansy and Blaise sat with him during lunch but Blaise had to leave early for Study of Ancient Runes. Pansy wasn’t taking her N.E.W.Ts and insisted she was going to become an actress instead. Draco didn’t care, he was supportive either way.

She did, however, ditch him when he insisted he had to study in the library. He didn’t go to the library. He and Alix went up to his room and settled down. Alix curled up at the head over Draco’s bed while Draco took a book from his trunk and began reading it. It was the same book Blaise was reading on the train,  _ ‘101 tricks for wandless dummies’. _

One of the practical lessons for DADA was non-verbal magic but Draco was already quite skilled in that area. What he needed to learn, were wandless spells.

  1. Focus on your goal  
Envision what you want and keep it at the center of your mind.



Easy. He didn’t want to rely on his wand for everything.

  1. Feel your magic.  
Understand what makes you a wizard/witch and connect with that purpose.



Draco knew what his magic felt like. It was tainted but there was love, loyalty, and hope weaved through. 

  1. Let your emotions flow through you  
Emotions allow wizards/witches to have stronger magic. The more powerful your emotions, the easier it will be.



That was more difficult. His Aunt Bellatrix taught him to shut off his emotions.

_ “Emotions restrict us, Draco.”  _ She had told him countless times,  _ “You will never be great if you don’t learn that.” _

  1. Understand that wandless spells take time  
Most wizards/witches cannot casta wandless spell for years. It takes patience, determination, resilience, and hope to cast the perfect wandless spell.



_ Well that’s annoying. _

**WINGARDIUM LEVIOSA**

The spell was printed in bold across the top of the page. It was the same basic instructions that he was taught during first year, the only difference was that you couldn’t use a wand.

Draco cleared his throat and shifted around on the floor. He pointed a finger at the quill he had placed in front.

“Wingardium leviOsa,” He exclaimed and using his hand, made the wand movement.

The quill remained on the ground.

Focus. Feel. Emotions. Understand. He repeated it back to himself.  _ Emotions _ .

Draco closed his eyes, “Wingardium leviOsa.”

The quill stayed still.

He huffed.  _ Emotions _ .

“Wingardium leviOsa.”

Nothing.

“Wingardium leviOsa.”

Nothing.

“Wingardium leviOsa!”

The quill ruffled and then stopped. Draco’s heart nearly stopped. It wasn’t much but it had done something!

He closed his eyes.  _ Emotions, _ he told himself, _ emotions _ .

The book had said any emotion works, it just had to be strong enough.

Draco tried to think of his happiest memory. Patronus charms were produced through happy memories, perhaps Draco would be able to cast a wandless spell with it.

_ It was the day he had first left Britain. Draco was six-years-old and had broken his arm a few days prior while trying to ride his father’s broomstick. His mother had been furious at Lucius for leaving it out but he had brushed it saying the would take him to the Healers. The Healers, however, did not want to use skele-gro to fix his arm as he was young and still growing. So, they bandaged his arm and put it in a cast. His mother kept a close eye on him for days. Draco wasn’t allowed to go outside without her permission or even wander to far through the halls. His father wasn’t overly stressed about Draco’s broken arm. “He’s a young boy, Narcissa. Let him play.” Draco remembers his father asking if he wanted to go somewhere special. “Of course,” He replied. Draco thought it was a stupid question, what six-year-old boy didn’t want to go somewhere special? His father led him to the firepit and placed a handful of Floo Powder in his small hand.  _

_ “Listen carefully, my son.” His father said sternly, “I’ll go first and then you follow. Make sure to pronounce your words and think of your destination.” _

_ Draco nodded like a good boy and watched as his father shouted, “Crowley’s Bar, Kenmare!” _

_ Draco had been so nervous he had accidentally dropped all the Floo powder. His mother would not be happy about that. But he grabbed himself another handful and thrown it into the fire. He thought hard about where his father had said and then he stepped in and shouted, “Crowley’s bar, Kenmare!” _

_ It felt like one of those rides where the floor dropped from underneath you. It was a matter of seconds before Draco fell through the fire and landed on all fours in a crowded pub. His father had pulled him up and hugged him, “I’m  _ proud  _ of you.” _

“Wingardium leviOsa,” Draco said and pointed at the quill. It moved sideways but didn’t rise above a centimetre off the ground.

Not enough emotions.

Draco thought about the first time he felt angry.

_ It was the end of fourth. His father had been absent for weeks when Draco came home. He thought perhaps it was for work. His mother assured him he would be back soon enough. A month had passed and his father had still not come home. “He’ll be back,” His mother whispered, “He always comes back.” But Draco was worried he wouldn’t come back, he was worried what changes he would bring back with him. His heart felt like it was on a continuous marathon ever since the Triwizard tournament and Cedric Diggory’s dead body appeared alongside Potter. “He’s back. Voldemort.” Draco didn’t believe him. No one really believed him. The Dark Lord couldn’t be back, right? Where was his father, though? Draco knew that he used to be a Death Eater. Not anymore, he told himself, not anymore. But his father had disappeared days before the final challenge and he was still gone. _

_ It was that night, that his father returned. He was bloody and bruised but whole. _

_ Draco sat at the top of the stairs and peered into the sitting room. _

_ “Lucius, my love! Are you okay?” He remembers his mother had rushed to embrace him but his father pushed her away and flopped on the couch. _

_ “He’s back. Narcissa, the Dark Lord is back.” _

_ There was silence. _

He’s still alive.

_ “Tell me you didn’t go to him.” His mother whispered, “Lucius, tell me!” _

_ “What could I have done? I have his mark, Narcissa! I can’t ignore it!” _

_ “YOU HAVE A SON!” _

_ Draco watched as his father’s face twisted into anger and he brought his palm back and _ —

_ His mother’s face whipped to the left and she brought a hand to clutch her cheek. _

_ “Do not raise your voice at me.” His father had turned on his heels and stormed to the stairs. Draco sat shell-shocked at the top and when his father met his eyes, his stomach boiled with rage. _

“Wingardium leviOsa!” He roared and watched as this time, the quill rose to his chest. Then dropped to the ground and stayed there.

Not enough.

Draco closed his eyes and remembered the first time he felt true pain.

_ There was a point in the war where it looked as though the Dark Lord was going to win. There had been no news about Potter and his friends for weeks, the Order of the Phoenix was silent and had made no moves, even the Ministry made no attempt to stop the Dark Lord. Draco was terrified he would actually win. The Death Eaters all called it the Three Week Silence. Draco thought it was a stupid name but during in the second week, Draco was called down to the drawing room. It was crowded with the Dark Lord’s servants, they seemed to be waiting for something. _

_ “Ah, Draco,” The Dark Lord had exclaimed happily, “Our main guest.” _

_ Draco had looked around the room for his parents. He found them standing in the back, their eyes downcast. _

_ “Tell me, Draco,” The Dark Lord continued, “Do you wish for the war to end?” _

_ Draco nodded. _

_ “Use your words, boy.” _

_ “Yes, my lord.” _

_ “And,” The Dark Lord glared at him, “Do you believe that I will finish the war?” _

_ “Yes, my lord,” Draco answered but it was a lie. He had stopped believing the Dark Lord would win long ago. _

_ “Let us see,” _

_ Draco didn’t know what the meant but as he looked into his Lord’s eyes, he could feel them pierce his mind. _

_ It was a different feeling than when his Aunt Bellatrix had used Legilimency on him. She felt like sandpaper rubbing over his skin, tearing away at his flesh centimetre by centimetre. Whereas, the Dark Lord felt like a snake sliding up his body, slowly coiling around his neck and then _ —

_ It _ squeezed. _ Draco felt like he couldn’t breath.  _

_ “You dare lie to me?” _

_ “I—” Draco struggled to say his words. His mind was fighting to rebel the snake around it. “I am not lying, my lord.” _

_ The Dark Lord snickered and his followers copied. _

_ “I can see your mind, Draco…” He hissed, “I know.” _

_ He couldn’t defend himself as the snake squeezed tighter. Draco felt his brain was going to pop like a pimple. He tried to use Occlumency against the Dark Lord but it was so hard to concentrate.  _

_ “Stop!” He screamed and in his mind he imagined a large dragon breathing fire upon the snake. It unwrapped itself from his mind and slithered away. Draco exhaled in relief. _

_ “You have shamed your family, boy.” _

_ Draco dare not look at the Dark Lord incase the snake returned but he could feel his presence move around Draco’s fallen body. _

_ “Look at me.” _

_ Draco did not. _

_ “Crucio.” _

_ No one could have prepared him for the pain that followed. It was as if someone had taken a dozen knives and dragged them along his skin. As if someone had shoved toothpick under his toenails and forced him to kick a wall. It felt like a million pins entering his skin. As though someone had made an opening in his stomach and was slowly peeling the skin away from his whole body. _

_ It stopped. _

_ Draco inhaled and exhaled deeply. _

_ “Look at me.” _

_ Draco couldn’t. _

_ “Crucio.” _

“Wingardium leviOsa,” Draco whispered.

The quill rose and floated in the air. Draco rushed to his knees and used his hand to guide the quill to the left.

It followed.

He moved his arm to the right.

It followed.

Draco laughed aloud. He could feel the joy in his stomach, it felt like a million fish trying to swim up his throat.

The time passed and Draco continued to move the quill from one side of the room to the other. He spun around in circles and watched as the quill followed his hand. He jumped onto the bed—he didn’t jump on Alix—and marveled at how the quill floated above the bed to him.

There was a knock on his door.

Draco forgot about the quill momentarily and glanced back to find it laying on the floor. He groaned lightly.

“Mister Malfoy?”

Draco opened his bedroom door to find a small house elf standing with its hands behind its back.

“Mister Malfoy?” It squeaked again and Draco nodded. 

“Headmistress McGonagall has requested your presence in the great hall.”

“Thank you…” He trailed off and expected the house elf to fill in with its name but it remained silent. Draco didn’t usually ask them their names but he supposed he may as well start. “Sorry, what’s your name?”

“Oh, uh, it’s Polby,” She—Polby—said, “Sir.”

“Thank you, Polby.”

“If that is all, sir?”

“Yes.”

Pobly nodded and disapparated with a soft pop.

“Alix,” Draco said and turned around to look at the black kitten sitting patiently on his bed, “Time for dinner, I think?”

Alix miaowed in agreement.

He nodded at the kitten but went to the bathroom mirror quickly. There was no white tail or wings in sight and from his calculations, he had about an hour before they came back.

Draco pulled on his robes and picked up Alix. He wandered down the staircase to the lower floor. There were a few stray students still piling into the Great Hall and Draco followed them in. He slipped over to the Slytherin table. Pansy and Blaise were sitting at the edge of the table and waved him over to join.

There was at least a metre gap between their trio and the others.

As soon as Draco sat down, a bowl of cat food appeared on the table in front of him.

“Here you go, Alix,” Draco whispered. He placed Alix and on the ground with the bowl.

He turned back to the table and looked at the food. He didn’t feel like eating.

“I think I’m going to get an early night,” Draco said to no one in particular. Pansy and Blaise both nodded and then went back to arguing over what Professor Vector had said during Arithmancy. Draco picked Alix and his empty bowl of food up. He placed the bowl on the table where it disappeared a second later and then grabbed a bun to nibble on.

The Great Hall was buzzing with chatter and yet, as Draco’s eyes strayed over to the Gryffindor table, he caught Potter staring.

Bloody Potter.

Draco looked away and scuttled out of the Great Hall. He just wanted to go to bed.

The fireplace in his room was flickering when he entered and Draco was thankful for the warmth it provided. He set Alix in his bed and headed to the shower. It was different then showering with a dozen other pubescent boys, he didn’t have to worry about not showering for too long. He took a thirty minute shower that night.

“Son of a bitch!” Draco cried as his shampoo and conditioner unexpectedly went flying when white wings burst from his back. He spent the remaining ten minutes of his shower trying his best to control the  _ things _ . It was almost as though they had a mind of his own. When Draco wanted his tail to curl around, it shot straight up. When he wanted his wings to tuck in, they started beating in the air.

The shower was not at all pleasurable.

What was even worse, was finding clothes to wear. He had attempted to pull a shirt on but his wings ripped it to shreds, Draco didn’t even attempt to put any pants on, they were all silk and his mother would kill him if he tore a single one. Perhaps, if he cut a necessary hole in a pair, she would understand? 

“Polby?” Draco called out, hesitantly. He gripped the towel around his waist tighter as the house elf apparated into the room.

It screeched.

“Mister Malfoy, you have wings!” Polby cried out, “And a tail!” She added when his tail swished into view.

“I do,” He agreed, “I need you to keep it a secret, Polby. Can you do that?”

“A tail and wings!”

“Yes, Polby.”

“Polby is very concerned for Mister Malfoy, it is not normal to have tails and wings.”

“I know that, Polby but I need your help.” Draco was growing annoyed.  _ She can help you, calm down. _

“Polby does not know what Polby is needing to do,” Polby said. Why do all house elves sound distressed?

“I need you to get my a knife?” Draco asked slowly, “Please.” He added.

Polby nodded and left with a bop.

Two seconds passed and she appeared with a pop. The knife in her hands reflected the light from the candles.

“Thank you, Polby. That’s all.” Draco took the knife and laid it on his bed.

Polby nodded and Draco assumed she had left. He opened his wardrobe and ruffled through this pyjama pants. They had to be plain and simple, not expensive but also comfortable. Something his mother wouldn’t mind having a large hole in. He went straight for his plainest pair. One was purple silk that his mother had brought back from Switzerland and the others was black cotton, both of which he hardly wore.

He heard a small cough behind him.

“Polby? What are you still doing here?”

“Sorry, Mister Malfoy but perhaps Polby could help some more?” She hopped from foot to foot. Draco wasn’t sure what she meant.

“How so?”

“Polby is very good at sewing, sir. Polby could sew some pants for Mister Malfoy and his tail.”

Draco’s eyes widened, “Could you really?”

“Of course, sir,” Polby replied. She was different than most of the house elves Draco had met or owned, he liked her a lot more.

“That would be extremely helpful. Did you want me to give you my pants?”

“If you would like, sir.”

Draco nodded and grabbed the other six pyjama pants from the wardrobe. Most of them were black, a few green, a pair of blue, one purple, and one red. Polby took them all and disapparated with a bop. Draco sat on his bed and waited. He shifted a few times. He put his tail beside him but it was uncomfortable to sit with, as was having his tail on his lap, between his legs, and tucked around his waist. He groaned and stomped his foot. He glanced at Alix who had woken up when Polby disapparated. He was sitting down and his tail was swishing out behind him. Draco watched for a moment and then guided his own tail into the same position. It was uncomfortable, at first. The type of uncomfort you get from sitting still for too long, a restless uncomfort.

Luckily, Polby apparated back into the room with her hands full of his pants. He stood up and she laid them where he had been sitting. 

Each one of them looked the exact same, there wasn’t even a hole in the back.

“Uh, Polby? Where is my,” Draco gestured to his tail, “Supposed to go?”

“Try it on, Mister Malfoy. We have made room for your tail.”

Draco—who had been standing in just a tail—pulled on black pyjama pants. They slid over his legs smoothly and when he got to his tail, it settled right into them. Draco wandered over to the full length mirror in his room and turned so he could see his back. The white tail was poking through the pants but Draco couldn’t see the hole it was poking from.

“Polby, this is spectacular!” He cheered. Polby grinned widely and clapped her hand.

“I’m glad you like it, sir!”

“I can’t believe you would do this for me,” Draco said and Polby’s smiled dropped a fraction. She stared at him curiously and Draco tucked a piece a damp hair behind his ear.

“Why would I not, sir?” Polby asked and Draco thought it was an odd question. “It’s my pleasure to serve.”

Draco had never thought of that before. He always assumed house elves served wizards because they were forced to, the same as slaves except more civil—in some cases. He never realised that house elves actually liked serving. 

“I’m not sure,” Draco replied to her. She smiled again.

“Is that all, Mister Malfoy?”

“Nearly.” Draco squatted down to her level. She was much shorter than all the other house elves he had met, she only reached his knees. “You can call me Draco.”

“Mister Draco?”

“Just Draco,” He corrected but Polby shook her head.

“I will call you Mister Draco,” She answered. That would have to be enough.

“Thank you, Polby. That is all.”

Polby nodded to Draco and then turned and nodded to Alix— _ that’s odd _ —and disapparated from his room. Draco blew out the lights of his room and lay down in his bed, a moment later, Alix curled up next to him. Draco felt like a balloon that had just been blown up. He wasn’t exactly sure why but he suspected it had something to do with Polby’s kindness.

*********

The moon was still high in the air when Draco woke. He closed his eyes and tried to go back to sleep. Minutes passed and Draco was as awake as ever, he groaned. It was the first time in a long time he had been able to sleep peacefully and it had only lasted a few hours—he assumed. 

He swung his legs out of bed and wandered around his room, lighting the candles. His wand felt cold against his palm as he cast a Temperus charm.  **01:27** . Draco groaned. His stomach reacted at the same time and let out a loud gurgle and then it twisted painfully. He was starving. Perhaps it would have been smart to eat more than a bun.

“Polby?” He whispered in the air. Nothing happened.

“Polby?” He tried again and spun around when he heard a quiet pop behind him. Polby rubbed at her eyes as she stared at him.

“Did I wake you up?”

“No, Mister Draco. Polby is always ready to serve.” She saluted him but yawned mid-salute. Draco gave her a look. “I promise, sir. What can Polby do?”

“I was wondering whether you could cook me up some food?”

“Of course, Mister Draco. It would be best if you came down to the kitchens, though.” Polby walked towards his bedroom door, “Polby will guide you.”

Draco looked at Alix, who had gone back to sleeping, and decided it was best to leave him in the room.

Polby guided Draco out of his chambers, through the seventh floor, down the staircase, to the dungeon, and down another hall. They stopped in front of an artwork of a painted bowl of fruit. Polby reached up and tickled the pear, surprisingly, a door knob appeared as she tickled it.

“Through here, Mister Draco.” Polby guided him into the room. It was lit by a small fire and looked very similar to Draco’s own kitchen at home.

“Polby will make you some food. You sit here.”

Draco watched as she shuffled off to what he assumed was the pantry. He sat down the one of the stools and waited while Polby prepared him some food. His stomach gurgled even louder as the smell of sausages and eggs and more wafted around the kitchen. He felt like a little kid on Easter.

When Polby returned, there were plates of food levitating behind her. In Draco’s sleep deprived state, he almost cried with joy.

“Thank you, Polby.”

“It is Polby’s pleasure, Mister Draco.”

They stopped talking then and Draco began politely shoveling food down his throat. Polby had cooked all his favourite meals.She had cooked cottage pie—which Draco ate first—, there was a Sunday trifle, bubble and squeak cakes, and his favourite dessert, Eton Mess. He ate it all until he couldn’t possibly eat anymore and then he sat and relaxed for a few moments. It was the most he had eaten, ever. The fire crackled lowly, it was the only source of light in the kitchen and added to the somber mood. He laid his head on his arms and rested. His stomach felt like it had expanded to the save of a hot air balloon. 

Draco dipped into a relaxing nap.

Polby shook him a couple minutes later.

“Mister Draco is needing to leave, now.”

“Okay,” Draco replied. He had a hard time keeping his eyes wide. “Hey, Polby? Would I be able to come back?”

“Yes, Mister Draco. You are always welcome in the kitchen.” Polby was pushing him towards the exact as she answered him. She swung the portrait door open and gave him one last push out the door, he was still drowsy and barely acknowledged her closing the door. Whatever the time, Draco knew it was too early to be walking around the castle. He dragged himself back through the castle and to the seventh floor. His eyes were barely open, everything felt like he was underwater. He didn’t even notice the person walking towards him until they were right in front of them. He looked up and squinted, maybe he needed glasses?

“Malfoy?”

Oh,  _ bloody Potter. _

“Potter,” He mumbled, “Get out of my way.”

“Are you alright?”

“‘M fine…” He was fine, but he was also extremely sleep deprived. When was the last time he had slept more than a few hours?

“Can’t sleep?” Potter asked. Was Potter trying to actually have a conversation with him? No, that couldn’t be right.

“Why do you care, Potty?”

“I don’t.”

“Good.”

Potter kept standing in front of Draco. Move, he thought. Neither of them did.

“Are you okay, Malfoy?”

“‘M fine,” He repeated.

“Alright,” Potter answered. He looked warily at Malfoy. “Goodnight then.”

Draco saluted Potter and walked over to his portrait. 

“Go out on a limb,” Draco stumbled through the portrait and practically passed out as soon as he hit the mattress.

What he didn’t know, was that Potter remained in the hallway for moments afterwards, not quite understanding what he just saw. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh dear!  
> Is Harry hallucinating?  
> Will Draco realise what Harry saw?  
> Do you like Professor Jackson?  
> Next chapter will be posted on Wednesday.


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yooooo!  
> hope you enjoy chap 3, it's been sitting in my drafts for a bit so here it is.   
> Chapter four might not be for a while bc I haven't written it yet, lmao.  
> I'll try my best to get it up by Sunday!!

**Chapter Three**

When Harry saw Malfoy next, he looked perfectly normal. Just normal Malfoy, taller than during the war, his hair was messier too, he looked less fragile but still seemed sullen? Harry was reading into it too much.

Throughout the day, he tried his best to distract himself from Malfoy but everywhere Harry went, fucking Malfoy followed. Harry would have been certain it was on purpose, if not for the fact that Malfoy paid no attention to him, at all. Not a single glance during DADA or Transfiguration and Charms. As Harry walked the halls to Hagrid’s hut, Malfoy didn’t even catch his eyes as he walked past.

“Something’s up with Malfoy,” Harry finally said during lunch. Of all the people sitting around him—Hermione, Ron, Neville, Dean, Seamus, Ginny, Luna, Parvati and Eloise, all the way up the other end—only Hermione responded.

“Yes, Harry?” She asked, absently. Her quill was scratching against parchment as she wrote her observations, some experiment she was trying, Harry didn’t ask much about it.

“He’s…” Harry searched for the word, “Being suspicious.”

“How so?”

“Have you, uh, noticed that he hasn’t said a single nasty thing to any of us? He only ever scowls. Why?” Harry questioned. Don’t be fooled, Harry was happy Malfoy wasn’t making any remarks about him or his friends, but for six years of his life, that’s all Malfoy had ever done.

“I think it’s nice,” Luna said. He looked over at her, she was sitting close to Ginny—who caught his eye and smiled. Yes, Ginny and he had broken up but there was no bad blood between them. Granted, when they initially broke up it was strange to figure out how to just be friends, again. There were multiple accidents where one of them would linger for too long or accidently go to kiss the other or hugs that lasted more than was normal, but they were better off friends. Ginny was always going to be the sister Harry never had and he hoped she would feel the same way.

“I mean, he wrote me a very kind letter in the holidays.” Harry was drawn back into the conversation when Luna continued talking.

“Oh really?” Hermione set down her quill and it wasn’t only her. All Harry’s friends seemed more interested in the conversation. Ron had set his eggs and toast down. Neville put his book on ‘Amazonian magical flauna’s”. Dean and Seamus pulled apart from the whispered conversation and looked at Luna. Parvati stopped braiding Hermione’s hair for a moment, but began again shortly after. Ginny rested her head on Luna’s shoulder and stared up through red eyelashes. Eloise didn’t care and kept eating, Harry didn’t really mind.

“Oh, just this and that. He felt bad for not helping me during the war.”’

“Damn right he should,” Ron muttered and Harry didn’t respond but agreed, there were so many things Malfoy could have done but didn’t.

“He wrote to us, too,” Dean piped up. Seamus’ hand tightened around his waist and pulled him closer to them—Harry didn’t think they could get any closer.

“What’d he say?” Ginny asked, she had moved to completely lean against Luna.

“Actually, he said congratulations,” Dean looked at Seamus fondly, “and that he was happy for us. It was so strange.” Dean and Seamus chuckled.

“See! This is what I mean.” Harry gesture wildly with his hands. Hermione stared at him with a pointed look. “Don’t you think it’s weird?”

“Weird? Yes, I do think it is a bit weird, but it’s definitely not suspicious,” Hermione said, “He’s not the same person he was before and during the war, Harry.”

“I know!”

“You’re acting like you don’t know that.”

“Of course I know he’s changed. I just don’t think someone can change that quickly.” Harry pulled down his fringe. His friends were still attentive to the conversation, some people agreed with Harry (Ron and maybe Ginny), but the others agreed with Hermione.

“Harry…”

“Let’s drop it, yeah?” He asked. Hermione looked at him but nodded and picked her quill back up again. The others got bored and returned to their own conversations and things.

Harry felt his gaze wandering over to the Slytherin table, it had fewer students than the other houses. He searched for the striking blond hair. He found Parkinson and her bob, Zabini with his buzz cut, but no Malfoy and his ever changing hairstyles.

Malfoy seemed to disappear completely after lunch. It wasn’t until Harry was in the common room that he saw Malfoy again.

Harry was sitting on the purple couch, his half written Charms homework discarded on his lap, he had one arm covering his eyes and the other was slung over Ginny’s shoulders. He could hear Neville and Luna chatting about Herbology and he could hear the chess pieces clack as Ron and Seamus versed each other. He was almost certain Dean and Hermione were on the table behind him chatting away with Ernest MacMillan and Lily Moons, something to do with Arithmancy or binding spells? Harry wasn’t too sure. 

He squeezed his eyes tighter as the firelight crept into his vision. He wanted to sleep but his body insisted it wasn’t tired.

“Harry?”

He peeled his arm from his eyes and glanced at Ginny. “Uh huh?”

“Sorry, I thought you were asleep,” She said and grinned sheepishly at him.  _ If I was asleep, why would you try to wake me? _

“No, just thinking.”

“Oh, what about?”

“School, what will happen once we graduate. You know we’re gonna graduate together, right?”

“Yeah, Harry,” Ginny replied, “I know. It’s pretty wacky right. You’re like my big brother.”

“I know.”

Their conversation stopped after that. Ginny turned her attention back to Neville and Luna’s conversation, she combed her fingers through Luna’s hair which seemed to have tiny specks of glitter, Harry wasn’t surprised.

He couldn’t be bothered to try and nap again, the common room was too loud and too bright. 

An idea struck him.

It was still early in the evening and the library wouldn’t close for another two hours. He doubted there would be many students studying and even if there were a couple, there was bound to be an empty corner for him to lay down in.

Harry quickly told Ginny where he was going and then picked up his books and left. He had no desire to do homework but Hermione would grill his arse if she knew he just went to the library to sleep.

The halls were still full of students walking back from dinner. Harry had students call his name and say hello but he wasn’t in the mood for conversation and hurried past after a quick, “hi”.

“Evening, Harry.” Madam Pince paused with a book in her hand to look over at him, “Homework?”

He nodded quickly, “Yes, Madam Pince.”

“There’s a quiet corner at the end of Ancient Runes and Arithmancy.”

“Thank you,” He replied. She gave him a swift nod and returned to sorting out the books. 

Harry made his way to the corner and all but flopped into the beige bean bag.

This time, when he tried to sleep, there was no loud chattering and no firelight to annoy him. The only sounds were pages of books turning and the scratching of quills, even that was near silent. As Harry’s breathing slowed, he began to grow hopeful that perhaps he would be able to get a couple hours of uninterrupted sleep.

“Draco!”

_ Fuck me. _

“Shhhh…” Malfoy responded, “This is a library and the last thing I need is Madam Pince rousing at me. We have an unspoken friendship, if you ruin that.”

Parkinson held up her hands innocently, “Alright, I’m sorry.”

Malfoy glared at her.

“Are you going to show me whatever it is?”

Harry opened his eyes. From where he was laying, he could see Parkinson and Malfoy’s legs, but that was all.

“Promise you won’t freak out.”

“I promise.”

Harry couldn’t promise anything though, his stomach had already done three somersaults. Was Malfoy going to show Parkinson the same thing Harry saw last night?

Harry watched as Malfoy shifted on his feet and then muttered, “ _ Revelio. _ ”

It was almost an instantaneous reaction. Between the white tail that sprouted from Malfoy’s back, Parkinson yelling-whispering a ‘what the fuck’, and Harry practically tumbling over, the whole thing felt like an awfully realistic prank.

“Shhhh!” Malfoy all but yelled at Parkinson.

“What the fuck!” She whispered in reply.

“I know!” He whispered back.

“You have wings!”

_ He had wings?  _

“I know!”

“And a tail!”

“I know!”

“What the fuck?” Harry nearly felt sorry for Parkinson, she sounded so confused. He was too, but at least it wasn’t happening to his best friend. Malfoy, of all people, was probably the most deserving of it.  _ Harry… _

Merlin, his self-conscience sounded like Hermione.

“I don’t know.” Malfoy’s tail drooped and even if Harry hadn’t heard the sadness practically dripping from Malfoy’s tone, he could definitely see it.

“Does Blaise know?”

“Not yet,” Malfoy replied, “I’m going to tell him tomorrow, during our break.”

“Okay, smart.”

There was a pause in the conversation. Harry used it to gather his thoughts.

So, Malfoy did have a tail and wings. Harry wasn’t hallucinating. Malfoy doesn’t know that Harry knows. Harry doesn’t know how to tell Malfoy that he knows without Malfoy knowing that Harry eavesdropped into his conversation.  _ Oh god. _

Was he really eavesdropping though? Technically, he had found out last night and in that case, he wasn’t really listening to a secret conversation if he already knew the secret.

“How did it happen?” Parkinson finally said. Harry could see her lean against the bookshelf.

“I’m—” Draco sighed, “—I’m not entirely sure. It was the middle of February, when I was at Gringotts with Mother.”

Harry remembers reading an article about that. Mrs Malfoy and young Mister Malfoy had exited Gringotts and suddenly apparated away but that was all the article said. No one really commented on their fast exit, they were too busy wondering what the Malfoy’s were up to with Gringotts.

“The Daily Prophet didn’t write an article on it?” Parkinson asked. Harry felt a tad awkward staring at her legs, well, he was more staring at the black stockings than her bare legs.

“It’s a wonder what money can do. I don’t think anyone saw—” Malfoy’s tail swished when he paused, “—this. Mother apparated us away to Saint Mungo’s before anyone could get a proper look.”

“But couldn’t someone have leaked the information?”

“You’re the third person to know about this. Only Mother, Healer Pickett, and you. Blaise will know soon but other than that, no one else knows.”

“Fuck, Draco.”

“I know,” Malfoy answered, “I know.”

Harry shifted uncomfortably. He felt extremely intrusive, and a tad awkward. It was almost like the tail had a mind of its own while still being connected to Malfoy. It kept swishing to Harry’s direction.

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m trying to find the spell but haven’t had much time.” 

“Why?” Parkinson asked. Harry was wondering the same thing. “We barely have any schoolwork and you basically have Outstandings in all yours subjects.”

“It’s not school. I’m learning extra spells by myself and I have to say, I’m not a very good teacher.”

They both chuckled and then silence.

Malfoy cleared his throat.

“You can’t tell anyone?”

“Of course I fucking won’t. Draco, you’re basically my twin, I would never do anything to hurt you.”

Malfoy moved closer to Parkinson, for a hug, obviously.

“Oh, wait.”

There were a scuffle of feet. Parkinson moved to the left and Malfoy did too. Then she moved to the right and Malfoy stumbled forward and stepped on her boots.

“Okay, um…” Malfoy said, “The wings are making this difficult.”

“Yeah,” Parkinson agreed and they both laughed.

“Let me just…” Draco began. He muttered what Harry assumed was a illusion charm because his tail then disappeared.

Harry stayed still and didn’t make a sound.

“I should go to my room, apparently Parvati and Sally-Anne want to have a glam night. They’re obsessed with my lipstick.”

“I’ll never understand why you like that muggle stuff.”

“You’ll see, one day.”

“Sure,” Malfoy muttered, “Goodnight, Pans.”

“Night Dracy,” She hummed and stepped around him, disappearing from Harry’s vision.

Malfoy remained where he was but a moment later he turned on his heel and left.

Harry placed the back of his hand against his forehead. Did he have a fever? He felt like he had a fever.

*****

Harry got no sleep that night and he could barely concentrate during his classes.

At the end of CMC (Care of Magical Creatures), Hagrid pulled him aside.

“Ya right ‘arry?” He asked. Harry was always surprised at how innocent Hagrid looked with an animal in his arms. This time it was a baby Diricawl.

“Huh?” Harry replied and then, “Oh yeah, I’m good. Just need a bit more sleep.”

“You sure,” Hagrid asked again, his ‘r’ coming out thicker than usual. Perhaps Hagrid was tired.

“Positive. Are you alright, Hagrid?”

“Mmm,” He stifled a yawn, the bird in his arms squawked. “Yeh, ‘m right, thanks. This little bugger’s keeping me up s’all.”

“Let me know if I can help?”

“Thanks ‘arry but I should be good. You, ‘mione, and Ron comin’ to visit tomorrow?”

Harry nodded and Hagrid ruffled his hair before shooing him off to his next class.

Harry barely remembers walking back to the castle and into Charms but he must have because he definitely remembers being handed a list of books to read for homework. He doesn’t really remember going to lunch either but he must have done that too, because he most certainly remembers Hermione storming way from the table after something Ron did—or didn’t do, which was the case.

He does remember walking through an empty second floor hall though because as he turned the corner…

“Oof,” Harry grunted and stumbled backwards. He glanced up to see who he bumped into and did a double take when he saw Malfoy scowling at him.

“Watch where you’re walking, Potter,” Malfoy said but that was all. No insults about his scar or his mother or the friends he lost during the war.

“That’s all you’re gonna say?” Harry asked before he could stop himself. He was nostalgic for the Malfoy that would throw insults better than he could throw fists. It seemed less complicated in those days—ignoring the constant threat from Voldemort, of course.

“What? You want me to apologise? Not likely,” Malfoy replied and stepped right to walk around Harry.

But Harry blocked his path. “No, I was expecting you to insult me.”

“Seriously?” Malfoy seemed shocked(?) by that. Harry could imagine his tail twitching. He almost wanted to see it again.

Harry shook the thoughts away. Malfoy was never going to trust Harry enough to show him.

“Isn’t that what you usually do? Insult people. Or do you usually go around bribing them?” Harry wasn’t sure why he was trying to pick a fight but merlin, it felt so normal.

“Get fucked, Potter.”

“I did, by your mum.” Harry knew he was overstepping. He knew he took it too far and that he crossed the line that was drawn between them, but he would be lying if he said it didn’t give him a spike of excitement.

Malfoy’s face contorted. He made a move to his robe’s sleeve but Harry was quicker. He withdrew his wand and pointed at Malfoy,  _ “Revelio!” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh no, Harry knows!!  
> Next chapter we'll explore their relationship more and Draco learns something about himself that he doesn't like.  
> This has a lot more of the Golden Trio and Blaise and Pansy in it too!!  
> Will romance be starting in chapter five? maybe chapter six??  
> We'll see how Harry and Draco feel about each other.  
> woot woot  
> see ya'll sometime soon


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yesssss it's here!!!  
> First of all, sorry this is late. I know I promised before Sunday but yolo :)  
> Secondly, I wrote this chapter in two hours so its super rushed and probably not as good lmao  
> Thirdly, sorry if Draco is a bit OC, I personally feel like post-war Draco is much less aggressive the pre-war Draco but that's just my opinion.  
> Lemme know if you like the chapter!!!

**Chapter Four**

_Who the fuck casts a revelio at someone?_

Both Draco and Potter stood still as they stared at each other. Draco’s eyes were wide and his mouth was half hanging open. He re-countered the steps that had happened before this moment.

First, Potter bumps into Draco. Second, Potter asks why Draco isn’t insulting him—does the bastard want to be insulted? Third, Potter picks a fight with Draco. Fourth, the motherfucker brings his mother into it. Fifth, he casts a fucking _revelio_ charm at him.

_Who the fuck?_

“What the fuck?” Draco could almost picture his mother scolding him about his language, he was too irritated to care. “Why the fuck?”

Draco stopped talking. Potter didn’t say anything, just stood there like a bozo with his hand levelled at Draco.

He quickly glanced back to see if his tail and wings were visible. They were as obvious as the Dark Lord in a beauty contest.

Draco glared at Potter before bolting into an empty classroom. He was lucky too, the bell for the fifth period rang just as the door shut behind him.

He surveyed the room. Desks and chairs were scattered throughout. He dusted off one of the tables and then sat down.

His head fell into his hands.

Potter knew his secret. Draco contemplated casting a Memory Charm on the idiot but knew he wouldn’t be able to effectively complete it in time.

As Draco thought through his options, he missed Potter entering the room.

“Malfoy?”

Draco looked up to see Potter standing awkwardly at the door.

“What?”

“I, uh,” Potter struggled, “I am sorry.”

“Apology not accepted.”

“Okay.”

Potter kept standing at the door.

Draco lifted his head from his hands. “What, Potter?”

“Last night,” Potter began, “I was in the library.”

“Congratulations, trying to find your missing brain cells, I assume?”

Potter frowned but ignored his comment. “I saw you and Parkinson.”

Draco felt his body go cold and his wings tensed up.

“I, um, it’s just... Uh, I overheard your conversation.”

“How much?”

Potter had the decency to look guilty.

“How much did you hear, Potter!” Draco spat. He stood to his feet and balled his hands into fists, Potter kept his wand ready in his hand but never raised his arm.

“All of it, Malfoy,” He whispered, “I heard all of it.”

Draco was expecting himself to start shouting insults and hurling curses and by the look on Potter’s face, he was too.

Instead, Draco fell back against the wooden desk and gasped for air. His chest tightened the way a boa constrictor killed the prey. His vision began to blur and he had to squeeze his eyes shut just to keep from falling over. He dug his fingers into the desk and his toes into his shoes but it felt as though he was trying to grip onto the air.

It hurt.

It hurt like a Crucio curse, Draco would know.

Was he dying?

Fucking Potter had given him a heart attack. He doubted the Golden Boy even knew how to help a person having a heart attack.

Draco knew, but he was having a hard time swallowing right now, let alone talking so he couldn’t exactly help Potter.

Oh god. Oh, Merlin.

Draco’s knees buckled underneath him and as he fell, his head hit the desk.

Great.

*****

When Draco came to, he instantly recognized the voices of Pansy, Blaise, Headmistress McGonagall, Madam Pomfrey, Potter, and his friends?

“What the fuck did you do to him!” That was Blaise.

“Mister Zabini, I would advise you to watch your language.” Headmistress McGonagall said.

“I didn’t do anything! One minute we were talking, the next he whacked his head against the desk and blacked out.” Draco would disagree that he and Potter were ‘talking’, but whatever floats his boat.

“Talking? I find that hard to believe.” Ah, there was his beautiful Pansy.

“I would have to agree, Harry.” Was that Granger? “You and Malfoy aren’t exactly, ‘friendly’.”

“Thank you, Granger!” Pansy exclaimed and then seemed kind of surprised at herself and went silent.

“Why is this Harry’s fault! Malfoy probably knocked himself out to frame Harry.” Weasley was here?

“Ron…” Potter trailed off.

“He could’ve?”

Draco could tell he was shaking his head.

“You either need to quieten down or leave. Mister Malfoy is recovering, he doesn’t need all this shouting.”

Thank you, Madam Pomfrey.

Draco tried his best to turn to his side but instantly regretted it. Acidic tasting bile rose up his throat and Draco pulled himself to the age of the bed and spewed it out.

At least it shut everyone up.

“Mister Malfoy?” Madam Pomfrey came over and touched his forehead. She waved her wand at the vomit and it disappeared. “How are you feeling?”

“Would you like me to rate it out of ten?”

Pansy and Blaise chuckled. Even Madam Pomfrey let out an amused huff.

“I’d say your feeling just fine. I’ll get you to drink a Pepper-Up and then have some rest. We will have a chat later tonight. Just for a check-up.”

“Thanks.”

Madam Pomfrey didn’t answer but she gave him a gentle pat on the hand.

Slower, this time, Draco pushed himself into a seating position and looked around.

The Golden Trio was standing to the left of McGonagall and Draco’s friends were on the right.

If he was going to get through this, he would need to Pepper-Up.

In one quick gulp, he downed it all and set it back on the table. Headmistress McGonagall took that as a sign that it was alright to begin talking.

“Mister Malfoy, I take it you’re well enough to talk?”

Draco nodded.

“Very good. Would you mind telling us what happened, in your words?”

There was no way Draco was allowing Potter’s friends to know about his tail and wings.

“They already know, Malfoy.”

He turned to look a Pansy. She had a sad smile on her face and she gestured for him to look down.

He did.

On his lap, a scaly white tail swished to and fro.

He glanced over his shoulder.

Scaly white wings flexed, ever so slightly. Would he be able to fly?

“Unfortunately, in Mister Potter’s attempts to get you to Madam Pomfrey, his illusion spell was poorly cast and Miss Granger and Mister Weasley were in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

They both looked a little sheepish.

“Also, I had to tell Blaise,” Pansy said. Blaise offered him a grin.

“That’s okay,” Draco croaked. His mouth tasted like a mixture of acid, pepper, and mint. It was not a good combination.

“Can you tell us what happened?”

Draco couldn’t remember.

“I can’t remember.”

“Mister Potter tells us you were talking together and then you fell and hit your head on the desk. Is this correct?”

Draco took a second to look at Potter who was standing next to McGonagall. He was avoiding Draco’s eyes and had decided that his trainers were more entertaining.

“That’s correct.”

Potter looked at Draco. His mouth was half open, like an idiot, which he was but Draco felt the need to tell him.

“You’re an idiot, Potter.”

Surprisingly, Potter laughed and agreed with him. His friends looked mildly concerned while Draco’s friends looked outright scandalised.

Headmistress McGonagall thought nothing of it. “That’s settled.” McGonagall turned to Granger and Weasley. “I trust you will keep Mister Malfoy’s condition to yourself?”

Weasley snickered, Draco wanted to choke him.

“Yes. _We_ will,” Hermione responded and subtly stomped on Weasley’s foot but Draco was so used to Pansy doing it to Blaise that he spotted it right away.

“Very well, I expect you five—” Potter, Granger, Weasley, Pansy, and Blaise “—to continue classes as usual. Mister Malfoy, I’m going to allow you the week. I’m sure your grades won’t be affected.”

McGonagall had nothing else to say after that. She left the hospital wing with the Golden Trio trailing behind like a pack of stray dogs.

His friends remained.

Draco was only half thankful.

“When were you going to tell me?” Blaise asked and moved closer to where Draco was lying. He grasped a pale hand in his brown one and gave it a tight squeeze, it held meaning behind it but Draco was unsure what.

“Today. Tomorrow. Sometime this week?” Draco replied but continued when Blaise gave him an unamused look, “Whenever the time presented itself? I’m not sure, Blaise.” He sighed. “Of course I was going to tell you, it’s just—I just…”

Blaise nodded. “It’s harder to tell me that it is to tell Pansy, right?”

There was a snort behind Blaise and Draco watched as she used a hand to cover her mouth. “I’m gonna go?”

They both nodded in agreement and Draco flinched when the door slammed shut.

“Dray,” Blaise used his childhood nickname, “You know I’ll never judge you, right?”

He did know that, but he also knew that things had shifted between them. Blaise would only ever see Draco as a friend, and Draco hated it. He needed more than that.

It was selfish but when had Draco not been selfish?

“Yeah, Blaise, I know.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me earlier? I had to find out through fucking Granger! Merlin, I should have been the first one you told.”

No matter how hard he tried to say something, no words came out.

“We’re friends, Draco. Hell, we’re brothers! I know we had a rough patch in Year One and Two but we made up.”

He nodded.

Blaise shifted to sit on the hospital bed and Draco wanted nothing more than to grab him and pull him closer, but he resisted the urge.

“I will always, always be here for you. By your side.”

“I know.”

“I love you, brother.” Blaise teased and his lips turned up at the sides. Draco felt his cheeks scrunch up as he returned the smile.

“I love you, too.” And he meant it.

Poor, selfish, unloved, and unworthy Draco. Always wanting more but not brave enough to get it himself. He expected everything to be handed to him on a platter.

_“Pick yourself up, little dragon boy!” The Dark Lord would hiss. “Useless mama’s boy. Wouldn’t know how to fight even if someone cast an Imperius on him.” Bellatrix loved to play this game. “Look at me, boy.”_

Draco hated the fact that every insult they said about him, was true. He was his mother’s son, since birth he had always chosen her over his father, more trustworthy, more loving. Draco didn’t know how to fight to expect to fight dirty. A curse and jinx when someone’s back was turned, but never when there was a chance he wouldn’t have the upper hand. He was a coward, always hiding in his room when the Dark Lord had his meetings and even when he was called to the meeting, he would slink to the back, head down but constantly aware.

 _“You have a heart of stone, son. No one can ever love a heart so cold.”_ His father had whispered, his breath reeking of firewhiskey and a touch of scotch. Draco remembered how he laid still in his bed, praying that his father would think he was asleep and eventually, go away.

“Draco?”

He remembered those moments best because even though he was scared, Draco couldn’t help but agree with every insult.

“Draco? Are you okay?”

He felt the warmth of a hand on his shoulder and glanced down. Blaise was gripping him and gently shaking, not too much but enough to drag him out of his thoughts.

“Hey? You with me now?”

There was Blaise, sitting on the bed, and watching him intently.

“Huh?” Draco asked. “Yeah—Yeah I’m good. Just a little shaken, still.”

“I bet. Not every day the Chosen One riles you up—oh wait…”

Draco chuckled at that. He and Potter really did bicker every day, no doubt about it.

“Are you good, now?”

He took a deep breath. “Yes.” He confirmed. Blaise met his eyes and threw him a grin.

“Good because I am _dying_ ,” He emphasised dying, “To hear about your little fiasco and how it ended in wings and a tail.”

“I promise you, it’s not at all that interesting.” He said, bringing his right hand to cover the shaking in his left. Blaise didn’t notice.

“I assure _you_ , that anything involving _this_ —” Broad gesture to his body. “Is going to be bloody interesting.”

Draco threw him a glance and took a deep breath. God, he hated talking about it.

_*****_

Draco was released from the hospital wing that night. However, not before Madam Pomfrey returned for his late night ‘check-up’.

She sat him down on the edge of the hospital bed but remained standing. She held her hands together in front of her, it ruffled up her nursing uniform and Draco wanted to smooth it down. He refrained from doing so.

“I want to talk to you, Mister Malfoy.”

_Oh really? I thought you just wanted to sit me down to enjoy tea and biscuits._

He just nodded.

“It’s about what happened earlier today.” She began. Draco unwillingly clenched at the words, what about today? “More specifically, the reason why you fainted.”

Oh. Oh no.

“I believe, Mister Malfoy, that you are suffering from mild anxiety.” _Oh no._ “As well as this, it is my belief that you are experiencing Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, which is not unusual, considering what you’ve been through. There may well be other issues that I have not diagnosed. My focus is on the two main health issues, however. Mister Malfoy have you considered therapy?

Considered? Yes. Tried it? Yes. Is it for me? No fucking way.

“My mother does therapy,” Draco replied. He didn’t look away from his feet.

“That’s very good for her, but we are focusing on you. Has the thought ever crossed your mind?”

“With all due respect, Madam Pomfrey, but I would prefer not to have someone peak around in my mind.”

Madam Pomfrey sighed. “Nobody will be peaking around your mind without your permission. That is not what I’m suggesting, however. I’m talking about sitting down with another person—a _professional_ —and talking about your experiences.”

“No.” It was quiet but definitely effective.

“Mister Malfoy, I believe it would—” Madam Pomfrey’s voice rose a fraction higher as she grew frustrated.

“No. I will not talk to someone about my fucking daddy issues, or nightmares, or panic attacks, or anything like that.”

He was thankful that no one else was in the hospital wing because it would definitely create some problems.

“Okay, no therapist.”

“Thank you,” Draco said and he did mean it, even if his heart was racing like a galloping hippogriff.

Madam Pomfrey reached to the bedside table and took the satchel from it.

“There is three weeks worth of potions in here that should help calm and control your panic attacks and nightmares. I must warn you, only one sip a day, otherwise, there could be extremely dangerous side effects.” She warned him as he took the burgundy satchel in his hands. He took a quick look inside and agreed that there were three weeks of potions.

“Thank you,” Draco said again.

“It is my pleasure, Mister Malfoy. You’re free to return to your chambers. Come visit when you’re out of potions and we’ll see where to go from there.”

Draco didn’t want to say anything else and it seemed Madam Pomfrey had no other words so he took that as his leave and left the room.

What was the time?

He cast a quick _Tempus_ with his wand, which Madam Pomfrey had placed in with the potions.

**9:47 pm.**

It wasn’t too late but definitely late enough that all students would be in their rooms by now. Draco was pleased with that.

He began the walk back to his portrait, to his sitting room, and into his bedroom where a glorious queen sized bed was waiting for him.

His stomach rumbled in protest.

When had he eaten last?

As if invisible hands were pulling him down to the dungeons, he found himself in front of the portrait—not his Chimaera portrait—with the ticklish pear. Of all the ticklish things in the world, why a pear? He decided it was a question for another day.

Draco crept into the kitchens, careful to not make too much noise as well as making sure he didn’t knock anything over.

“Polby?” He whispered into the dim room, “Are you awake?”

There was a pop next to him and Draco had to grip on to the benchtop to steady himself.

“Polby is awake, sir.” She responded, quite cheerfully too. “Is Mister Draco needing dinner?”

He nodded in earnest. “Yes, Polby, that would be spectacular.”

“Polby thought so. Mister Draco did not show up for lunch, or dinner. Then Polby was told that Mister Draco was in the hospital wing!” Polby wandered around the kitchen, bowls and plates levitating as she passed by. “Of course, sir will be needing food, Polby thought so I made a variety of dishes.”

She stopped in front of the dining table, with a point of her finger, the dishes arranged themselves neatly on the wooden surface. There was more than enough food but Draco was grateful nonetheless, in fact, he had a hard time fighting off the grin on his face.

Heart of stone, be damned.

“This is more than I could have asked for, Polby. I really appreciate it.” Draco said sincerely. This time it was Polby’s turn to smile and turn away with a quick _‘it was nothing, sir’_.

Draco’s stomach growled and pulled him down onto the stool—not actually but you get the picture.

He wasted no time to dig in.

For the first five minutes, he ate in silence with his focus solely on the food in front of him. He swallowed it down like there was a beast in his stomach that he needed to feed, he supposed there was, he had the wings and tail to prove it.

The next five minutes, Draco spent watching Polby as he _slowly_ chewed his food and then _slowly_ swallowed it as well. The beast began to calm down.

“Hey, Polby?” Draco asked through a mouthful of potatoes and carrot, “How come I never see any other house elves?”

Polby didn’t answer, just continued tending to the fire. Draco decided it was best to let her answer in her own time. Which happened to be only a minute later.

“The other elves are,” She struggled to find a word that wouldn’t offend Mister Draco, “frightened of you, sir.”

That made him stop eating. His hand shook the tiniest bit and he was forced to put down the buttered bun he was about to absorb.

“Frightened, of me?”

Polby nodded.

“Oh.” Was all he managed to respond with.

He supposed they had every right to be afraid of him. He was a Malfoy and even the house elves must have heard the stories about him. There was no surprise that they wouldn’t trust him but for some reason, it struck deep in his chest. If house elves were too afraid to even be in the same room as him, how did everyone else feel?

Polby must have sensed his thoughts turn dark because she quickly rushed to add, “Don’t worry, sir! Ever since the war, they’ve been nervous about everyone.”

While he appreciated her effort to calm him, it didn’t work.

“Can you, uh—” He said. “Would you be able to tell them that I don’t mean to frighten them?”

“Polby can do that.”

“And that I’m sorry about how they were treated in the war, and even before the war too. I know I’m guilty of mistreating my house elves, I just never really thought about it. I mean, I was always taught that house elves were made to obey and if they didn’t, they needed punishment. Damn, I guess I never really thought about how the house elves felt. Everything has feelings, right?”

“Mister Draco needn’t fuss about the feelings of house elves, it shouldn’t worry him.”

Draco shook his head, it shouldn’t but it did.

“I’m sorry, Polby. I thought house elves were below us purebloods because you were worth less than us.” Merlin, he was a fucking train wreck. The Draco Malfoy from Fifth Year would be hissing at this version. That Draco Malfoy never fought in a bloody war.

“Sir, it is fine!”

“I’m sorry, can you tell them that?” Draco said. It was too early in the evening for existential thoughts, perhaps later that night.

“I can. Though, I’m sure they’d rather hear it themselves, Mister Draco.”

The kitchen erupted into soft pops and Draco was shaking at how many house elves appeared. They all murmured a variety of ‘hello sir''s and ‘good evening Mister Draco’’s.

“Hello.”

None of them said anything.

“I’m sorry,” Draco said, to all of them. He made sure to glance around the kitchen so that they felt included.

Surprisingly, the house elves all forgave him pretty easily and many of them came up to him and bowed. It was all so bloody weird.

He spent an hour or more sitting in on the stool with multiple house elves walking up to him, admiring his wings and tail, asking if he liked the food or wanted more, and questions about his holidays or how his year was going or whether he would spend every break in the kitchen. Draco had to admit, by the time he finally made it to his room at 11:06, his heartfelt less stone-like and more teddy bear like.

Heart of stone, be damned.


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco makes some new friends?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yo yo yo! This is pretty late and also very, very short but I had writer's block so :/  
> Anyway, I hope ya enjoy it and lemme know what ya'll think!

**Chapter Five**

Draco’s spent his week in one of four places. The first was the kitchen, talking to Polby about the laws of magic, differences between house elves and wizards, and how to cook his favourite meals. He sent mother a recipe for lemon meringue—which he had fallen in love with. 

The second place, the library. He spent majority of his time there revising or learning new spells. He had the strong urge to sneak into the Restricted Section.

The third place was down near the lake. He would often sit there and practice nonverbal or wandless spells, perhaps read a random book from his private bookshelf, write a letter to Mother—and Father if he was feeling nice—or he would just lie down and relax in the sun. Didn’t really matter what he did, he never felt bored.

The fourth place was surprising. He had begun hanging out in Moaning Myrtle’s Bathroom. What was even more surprising was the fact that he quite enjoyed her company, most days. When she wasn’t wallowing in self-pity, she was actually quite funny and charismatic and listened when Draco needed her to. She would even warn Draco if it seemed like someone was going to enter the bathroom. No one ever did.

He rhythmically tapped his fingers against the parchment. His mind struggled to find the right words for his mother. All he had so far was:

‘Hello Mother,

I had a panic attack the other day. It was Potter’s fault. Madam Pomfrey gave me some calming drought for it and told me to visit her once a week. She even recommended a therapist.’

Draco scowled at it and scratched it out. He rewrote the letter.

‘Hello Mother,

I had a panic attack the other day. It was Potter’s fault. Madam Pomfrey gave me some calming drought for it and told me to visit her once a week. She even recommended a therapist. Hogwarts is going well, I’m still on top of my classes. Tell Father hello for me?

I’ll see you in the holidays.

Your son,

Draco.’

With a sigh, he rolled the letter up and tied it to his grey owl, gave Arro a treat, and sent him on his way. The owl flew to the West.

He watched the bird for a while until it was just a dot in the sky and he wondered what it what be like to fly.

His wings flapped, reminding Draco that he could probably fly, if he wanted to. He did want to. 

Before he had the chance to really consider it, the Golden Trio stepped out of the forest.

“Listen, I just think McGonagall should be a bit nicer with homework. I mean, we did save—” Weasley was ranting when he stopped dead. “That’s Malfoy,” He whispered not so quietly.

“Wonderful observation, Weasel,” Draco said and was half-tempted to sock the idiot.

Weasley scowled but didn’t retort.

The four of them didn’t say anything, Draco had enough and rose to his feet.

He dusted off grass from his arse and said, “While this has been a lovely chat, I’m going.”

No one objected until Draco was at least ten meters through the forest.

“Draco!”

He turned around to see Granger jogging over to him, his scowl deepend.

“Wait up.”

“What do you want, Granger?” Draco asked, his arms crossing defensively and his tailed flicked violently.

“Can I walk back with you?” She asked as she stood in front of him.

Draco looked over her shoulder to Potter and Weasley talking together, “Aren’t you going to hang out with the Weasel and Chosen One?”

Granger narrowed her eyes but ignored his choice of, ‘nicknames’.Instead, she responded with, “I think I’d rather walk with you.”

“Okay.”

They walked together in silence and eventually the castle came into view. Draco felt an itching in the back of his mind to say something, anything.

“Thank you… For the birthday card.” He decided to say. His eyes were focused on his feet and even when Granger turned her gaze to him, he paid no attention to it.

“It was nothing.” Granger said with a shrug, Draco nodded and listened as she continued. “I know we’ve had our differences, but it’s a new year and we’ve all survived a war so I hope it means we can start anew?”

Granger fell into silence as Draco considered her words. Something his mother told him ran through his mind but he couldn’t remember what.

“That sounds,” Draco finally glanced up at Granger and offered, what he hoped was a friendly smile, “Good.”

He meant it.

Granger beamed at him, “Okay great because, well—” She looked down sheepishly, “I’d really like a study partner?”

He hadn’t even thought about that idea, but he wasn’t opposed to it either.

“Sure.”

“Are you free fifth period on Thursday?”

“I am.”

“Great, we’ll meet in the library?” Granger asked and adjusted the strap of her bag. Draco mirrored her as his own bag was slowly slipping off his shoulders with every step.

“Sounds good,” Draco answered and fell into sync with Granger’s footsteps.

“Cool,” Granger said, shifting the strap of her bag once more. By now, the castle was only a few strides away but she stopped and turned to Draco.

“I’m actually heading to Hagrid’s hut, you don’t want to come by any chance?”

“Sorry Granger, but no.” Draco said, his eyes actually taking her in for the first time in two years, the first time since the end of the war. She had maintained her curls, unsurprisingly. In fact, she seemed to have embraced them even more. Her skin was still dark but there was now a healthy glow that wasn’t there during the war.

“It was worth a try,” Granger responded, “Also, you can call me Hermione.”

“Hermione,” Draco said, it felt odd on his tongue, he doubted he had ever said a first name in all the years he had known her. It was going to be a hard habit to break.

“Okay, _ Hermione _ ,” Draco emphasised, “You can call me Draco.”

“Goodbye, Draco.” Hermione slowly walked backwards, “I will see you next Thursday.”

Draco gave her a wave before she turned around and hurried to the giant’s hut, Draco could already see him waiting out the front for her.

His week seemed a little bit brighter.

His tail swished behind him.


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blaise struggles to deal.  
> Draco and Harry hang out.  
> Seamus and Dean know something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YO  
> this has been finished for weeks lmao so here it is  
> Lemme know if you like it

**CHAPTER SIX**

The sun danced across the carpet of his room and the trees waved strange shadows. Draco sat cross legged on his bed, a book titled  _ ‘Unity of the North’ _ was flipped open in front of him, and he licked his fingers as he turned the page.

It was Saturday. Draco had no homework or social events, he was ecstatic.

Alix climbed into his arms and meowed, Draco pulled him closer to his chest.

It was probably the fact that he wasn’t expecting wings to sprout from his back but his heart skipped a beat.

He sighed and fell dramatically on his back. He laid  the book over his eyes to block out the sun. He hadn’t gotten a goodnight’s sleep since Thursday, not after he ran out of Calming Draught, Draught of Peace and Dreamless Sleep Potion.

“Fuck me!”

Draco sat up. Blaise was standing at the doorway with a hand clutching the wall and one hand over his heart, he was breathing heavy in between laughs.

“What happened?” Draco rushed out, his mind was feeling foggy after his ‘nap’.

“I forgot you have wings,” Blaise replied, “And a tail.”

Draco threw a pillow at his head. “I thought someone killed you or something.”

“You nearly just did,” He said, catching the pillow and throwing it back on to the bed. Blaise climbed in next to him.

“What’re you reading?” He asked and lifted his head up to peer at the book cover. Draco turned it so he could see better.

“Unity of the North.”

“Interesting.” Blaise wasn’t that interested but Draco appreciated the effort.

They sat together in silence, Draco put his book down and just lay there petting Alix while Blaise closed his eyes and sprawled out on his stomach.

“Why are you in here?” Draco finally asked, going to the spot just behind Alix’s ear that always made him purr.

“Can’t I visit my bestest friend slash brother?”

Draco gave him a look.

“Fine!” Blaise propped himself up, “Ron is hanging out with his friends and I don’t want to be there.”

Draco nodded and then stopped.  _ Ron? What the fuck? _

“Ron?”

“Yeah, Weasley.” Blaise looked at Draco confused and that made him seriously worried. Had someone drugged him? Amnesia, maybe? 

“Since when did you start calling Weasley, Ron?” Draco asked momentarily stopping his pats on Alix, who miaowed at him to continue.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

Blaise shrugged. 

Draco glared at him.

“I’ve been sleeping in the same room for about a month now, its weird to keep calling him Weasley, and I hate being called Zabini,” Blaise said with a scowl at the end. He really did hate the sound of his last name, used to always complain about how it kind of sounded like a bad pronunciation of  _ ‘Zamboni’ _ and he didn’t want to be a  _ ‘fucking ice car’ _ .

“Uh huh.” Draco nodded, falling into the rhythmic pattern of stroking Alix.

“Do you know what the most annoying thing about Weasley is?” When Draco shook his head, Blaise continued, “It’s the way he leaves everything to the last minute. Homework, he does it the night before. Clothes, he doesn’t clean them until there are about twenty dirty ones piled up. He hates doing things unless he absolutely has to. What the fuck? I mean honestly, I just —”

Blaise went on about every little irritating thing Weasley did. They started off normal, things Draco could relate to, things that annoyed Draco as well, but they progressively got weirder.

“His hair is always this annoying sunset orange! How can anyone’s hair look like the sunset?”

Draco wouldn’t exactly call it sunset orange, more dead ginger cat.

“When he gets out of the shower, he doesn’t even look wet! He looks as though someone gently sprayed him with mist and he’s damp.”

Draco didn’t know what Weasley looked like when he got out of the shower, he didn’t really want to know.

But to top it all off and to prove Draco’s suspicions, Blaise complained about one more thing.

“He’s so  _ bloody _ funny! It’s not fair, how can I have an argument when everything he says makes me laugh? I’m trying to talk about organisation and he goes and makes some joke about webs and spiders and shit. No one is that funny.”

Draco sat through Blaise’s complaining, his heart clenching as his mind came to the realisation that hey, Blaise likes Ron. A lot.

He didn’t say anything. Not until Blaise had finished ranting or complaining or falling in love, whatever you want to call it.

“Blaise?” Draco said cautiously, not exactly sure how to approach the situation.

“Oh sorry, Drake, I’ve been ranting haven’t I?”

“A bit,” He agreed, “I have a question though?”

“Yeah?” Blaise asked looking at him with his head propped up in one hand, a cushion tucked between his legs.

Be gentle.

“I’m pretty sure you have a crush on Weasley.”

Or just rip the fucking bandaid off, whichever works best.

Blaise coughed and Draco thanked the lord he hadn’t been drinking water at that time.

“WHAT?”

“I’m just saying what I’m seeing and hearing,” Draco said and held up his hands innocently. He made sure to keep Alix between them because Blaise would never hurt a kitten.

“I don’t—” Blaise made a face, “I definitely do not like Ro—Weasley,” He corrected the slip up, “How could you think that? Was it when I was complaining about his hair because that doesn’t mean I like him. Or how he never looks wet? Or how—”

Blaise stopped and Draco knew that he had figured it out.

“Oh.”

Draco nodded.

“Oh no.”

Draco gave him a small smile.

“I like Ron.”

“Yep,” Draco said and popped the ‘p’. Alix miaowed his agreement too.

“How?” Blaise asked, his head dropped into his hand and he huffed loudly. Draco wasn’t sure how but he could guess when.

“I don’t know.”

“What am I going to do?”

“You’re not going to make big fuss, first of all. Secondly, tell Pansy, she’s the queen at dating advice.”

“Right, you’re right,” Blaise said and grabbed Draco’s hand, his heart jumped. “Where would I be without you?”

“Probably dead,” Draco replied with a shrug. Blaise chuckled at that and laid back on the bed.

Draco let him think and settled down to patting Alix.

It was minutes later that Blaise finally spoke again.

“I’m gonna go find Pansy, and then I’m gonna figure out what to do,” Blaise said, his words getting lazy as he got tired.

“Alright.”

“You coming to Dining Hall?”

“I can’t be bothered to re-do the spell,” Draco said and vaguely gestured to his body. Blaise nodded in understanding. He left with a squeeze of Draco’s hand and a ‘thank you’.

The portrait slid shut with a soft  _ ‘shhlick’ _ .

Alix miaowed at the same time his stomach growled.

“Wow, you’re right.” Draco rubbed Alix’s chin as he whispered, “We’re very hungry.”

He hopped off the bed.

“Polby?”

There was a pop.

“Sir?”

“Would you be able to bring Alix and I dinner? Please.” 

“Of course,” Polby popped away and reappeared a second later, she placed Alix’s food on the ground and Draco’s on the bed, then she turned to him and stared.

“Polby? Is something wrong?” Draco asked worried, he instinctively wiped his face in case he somehow got dirt on it.

“You seem sad, Mister Draco.”

“Oh,” Draco whispered, “I guess I am.”

“May I ask how come, if Polby isn’t too forward,” She asked sweetly, rocking back forth on her heels. Draco took a seat on the side of his bed.

“No, it’s fine.” Draco sighed, “The person I like—liked, I should say—likes someone else.”

“Polby is sorry, Mister Draco.” The house-elf moved closer to him and patted his knee while it was kind of awkward, Draco appreciated the gesture.

“It’s fine,” Draco sighed and shrugged.

A beat passed.

“Polby are you able to get me some Dreamless Sleep?” Draco asked and hoped it didn’t sound like begging but he was really tired and just needed something to help. 

Polby glanced at him suspiciously.

“Please, just tonight.” Draco was definitely begging now, he didn’t really care.

“Just tonight,” Polby agreed and disappeared.

Draco dipped his head in his hand and looked up when Polby returned with a small vial in her hands.

“This will last you the night.”

Draco nodded, “Thank you.”

Polby left his room with a pop.

The vial was left on his bedside table while he eat through dinner. Alix was next to him, munching on cat knipples that the house-elves made for him—Draco thought it was really kind.

“Bedtime?”

Alix miaowed and jumped onto the bed. Draco pulled the covers down and slid underneath them, he grabbed the vial from the bedside table, propped himself up with one arm, and downed to potion.

It took a bit for him to fall asleep but he slept uninterrupted…

Until 1:06am.

*****

He was woken up by banging on his portrait door and the growling the an annoyed chimaera, Draco let out a huff.

He kicked the covers off his body—startling Alix—and stormed to the portrait. He grabbed the knob and took a step back when it swung back harder and faster then he was expecting.

“What!” He growled. He rubbed his eyes of sleep and squinted at the person in front of him. Brown messy hair, brown skin, green eyes with those fucking glasses.

“Potter, what the fuck do you want?”

The boy in front of him shrugged, “I’m not sure.”

“Okay.”

“Wanna hang out?”

“It’s the middle of the night,” Draco complained, his hand held the door frame for support. He noticed the pile of books in Potter’s hands and briefly wondered when he had ever seen the boy doing homework.

“Yeah,” Potter grinned sheepishly, his hand brushing through a brown fringe that covered his scar.

Draco stared at him, trying to figure out what the motive behind it was but his half-asleep brain didn’t care what Potter wanted, he just needed to go to sleep.

“Okay,” He said. Harry looked up at him.

“What?”

Draco rolled his eyes so far into his head he could see the thoughts whizzing by. He didn’t say anything, just moved to the left to make room for Potter to come through.

He didn’t wait to see if the Boy Who Lived was following him, he just walks into his room and slumps on the bed.

He was too awake to go back to sleep but too sleepy to be a functioning human being. He opted to just staying silent and lying on his back, which Potter didn’t seem to mind as he took out his books and started scribbling on his parchment.

“Did you know Flitwick gave us homework in the first week?”

Draco hummed and Potter took that as an ‘No, I didn’t know.’

“Yeah, I know! I thought Flitwick would be more chill about homework but he definitely isn’t.” 

Draco half-listened as Potter rambled on about Flitwick and his homework, then he went to how he just wishes they’d treat them more like war survivors instead of little children, then he talked about how nice Barbados is this time of year and where he was planning on travelling to next year.

Draco nodded his head when he needed to and shook it when he had to, but his mind was thinking about other things..

Blaise was his best friend but he couldn’t help the anger that rolled around his stomach at the thought of him with someone else. He tried to remind himself that he wasn’t his father, he wasn’t possessive, he wasn’t a jerk but the feelings kept simmering. 

He thought about all the plans they had made together, just the two of them.

They were supposed to graduate together and move to Eze in France and Blaise would write articles and Draco would learn new skills. They would live together, explore together, love together. That’s what they planned. That’s how it was meant to be.

If Draco had been watching, he would have noticed the small glances Potter was giving him.

“Malfoy?”

Draco dragged his eyes to Potter, who was sitting cross-legged on the couch with a blank parchment in his hands.

“Huh?”

“Did you hear what I said?” Potter asked and if Draco didn’t know any better he’d say Potter looked amused.

“No.”

“That’s fine.”

“What’d you say?” Draco murmured, closing his eyes again.

“Doesn’t matter.” Potter said quietly and Draco rolled his eyes under his eyelids.

“Tell me.”

“No, it’s fine.”

“Fine.”

“Good.” Potter continued working on his homework and Draco went back to thinking about his life but he couldn’t pick up where he left off after being interrupted. 

He was tired, though.

Very tired.

Was the Dreamless Sleep potion still working?

Draco slowly blinked his eyes open. He heard the ruffling of robes and looked up to see Potter packing up his things.

“Where’re you goin’?” Draco slurred, draping his hand over his forehead.

Potter must have thought Draco was asleep—was he?—because he jumped about ten centimeters off the ground when he spoke.

“To my dorm,” Potter answered after taking a couple breaths, “You’re tired and I don’t even know why I’m here.”

Draco nodded seriously.

Potter stared.

Feeling awkward, Draco quickly answered, “Okay.”

“That’s it?”

What did Potter want him to say?

Yes…” He asked slowly, his eyes closing the harder he tried to stay awake.

“Alright.” Potter gathered his things and wandered to his bedroom door where he hesitated before turning around.

“Good night, Draco.”

Draco salutes Potter and sleepily watches him leave. He barely hears the portrait door shut.

His wings flapped and caused his body odour to whoft right up his nose.

“God! I stink, Alix.”

Alix miaowed.

He felt like a drunken whore as he stumbled over to the bathroom. 

He turned the shower on and stepped in.

“Shit!”

His shock and the bottom of his trousers were sopping wet. 

His mood turned sour but he managed to take all his clothes off.

The problem was, the shower was way too hot.

“Fuck my life! Bloody shit balls,” Draco cried out cusses and insults as he clutched a very red hand. He was half-tempted to sleep in his sweat and odour, but he couldn’t morally do that.

He reached in with his other hand and turned the tap for cold water, using that same hand, he tested the temperature.

Moderate heat.

He was in the shower for about ten minutes.

He slept for another five hours.

*****

Draco woke up at midday. The sun was high and the curtains in his room did little to nothing to stop the light. Alix was running around the room like crazy which made Draco chuckle and sit up.

“Hungry?” He asked simply, Alix jumped into the bed and started purring, Draco laughed.

“Polby?”

The house elf popped into the middle of his room.

“Could you bring Alix some breakfast?”

“Of course, sir.” Polby disappeared and reappeared with some cat knibbles.

“Thanks, I’ll be down to the kitchen in a bit.”

The house elf nodded.

It took Draco exactly ten minutes to shower and change. He ended up wearing black jeans and a white button up shirt, too casual for what he’d usually wear but he wasn’t expecting company.

It wasn’t until he was halfway to the door that he noticed a Potions textbook that definitely wasn’t his because his were stacked neatly on his desk. 

Potter.

He flicked the book open and looked for the name on the front. Sure enough “Harry J. Potter” was printed in scrappy handwriting.

Draco groaned loudly and contemplated leaving it where it was, but decide that he didn’t want another late night surprise.

He picked up the book and tucked it under his arm. With a quick wave of his wand, he concealed his tail and wings and left the dorm to find Potter and return his bloody book.

Room 2D.

He knocked on the wooden door and waited, impatiently, to be answered.

As the door creaked open, Draco began ranting.

“Potter, I let you hang out one time and you leave a mess behind. I didn’t ask to have a late night play date so I think it’s a bit annoying that you forget books and shit?”

He stopped.

It was not Potter staring back at him.

It was Finnigan.

With Dean Thomas’ arms wrapped around his waist.

“Oh.”

“You ‘right mate?” Finnigan drawled, he was smirking and Draco wanted to scrub it off his face.

“Is Potter there?” He asked, where else could the lazy wanker be?

“Nope,” Dean replies, popping his P. Draco nodded his head in understanding.

“You’re welcome to wait?” Seamus offered but judging by the half put on clothing and the ruffled hair, Draco had just interrupted something. He didn’t really want to know.

“No, no that’s alright,” he answered awkwardly, for two reasons. One, these were the people that fought him in the war. Two, these were the people that won. “Do you know when he’ll be back?”

“Stuffs me.”

Draco studied Finnigan, “Right. Sorry for bothering you.”

The pair gave him an odd look, Dean tilted his head and Seamus lifted an eyebrow.

Draco scratched his neck.

“I’ll see you two around.”

“Aight mate,” Seamus agreed.

“Later Draco, we’ll let Harry know you were looking for him.”

“Thanks.”

Draco left with Potter’s book still in his arms. He wasn’t sure why he didn’t just give it to Potter’s roommates. Perhaps he wanted to tease Potter about being a forgetful git or perhaps there was another reason.

While Draco was too lost in his thoughts to notice, Seamus and Dean watched him leave the common room with questions whirling around their minds.

“Think he knows yet?”

“Nah,” Seamus replied, rubbing the Dean’s hand, “nah, they’re both oblivious dickheads.”

Dean’s chest rose as he laughed and it warmed Seamus’ body.

“Com’ on.”

They disappeared into the dorm and locked the door.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> harry and draco have a heart to heart? maybe even a blossoming friendship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holyyyyyy fuck!  
> it has been nearly four months since i've updated  
> i am so sorry lmao  
> i have had no inspiration/motivation for this fic but i'm back! and i'm gonna finish this story!!!! i promise  
> anyways  
> enjoy  
> comment  
> kudo  
> love ya

There were no waves in the lake. Obviously. Draco still enjoyed the ever so soft, ripples of movement. As he laid his parchment down on top of the book, the kitten in his lap stretched and hopped to the ground. Draco glanced at the cat and watched as he ran towards the shrubs. Alix would come back when he wanted too.

He stuck an arm into his bag and felt around for his charcoal, he found a quill, a piece of bubblegum and sherbet lemon —he ate the sherbet lemon and stored the gum for later—until finally, he felt the chalky sensation under his fingertips.

“Ah.”

He settled down on his stomach and studied the landscape in front of him. He blamed his mother for his obsession with landscapes, she always went on about how Claude Lorrain had the perfect style of Renaissance classicism and how John Constable had an effortless warmth to his paintings. Draco didn’t care about the old shits but he did like the landscapes they made and he liked the way charcoal looked on parchment. Mother told him that was as good a reason as any. He was nowhere near amazing but it was calming and no one would ever see it.

“That looks good.”

Draco’s hand flew up and created a thick, dark line of charcoal up the page. His heart leapt in his chest and he quickly flipped the drawing over.

“Potter,” He whispered, his heart sounded like a train horn in his ears, “What are you doing here?”

Potter sat down, he stared curiously at Draco.

“Dean said you wanted me?”

“No, why would I want you.”

“Well, I don’t think he meant wanted me,” Potter corrected, “But apparently you came looking for me?”

“Right.” Draco reached his hand into his bag and grabbed the Potions book. He handed it to Potter without saying anything. Potter took out.

Draco expected Potter to get up and leave. He busied himself with putting away his parchment and charcoal, trying his best not to look at the boy next to him.

“I don’t blame you.”

Draco’s hand stopped midway to grabbing the piece of charcoal. Slowly, he reached out and took it into his hand. Potter didn’t say anything else so Draco bit. He pushed himself to sit cross-legged and raised an eyebrow.

“For joining the Death Eater’s,” His eyes darted to Draco’s left arm, “I would have done the same.”

Lava bubbled in his stomach. How dare fucking Potter act all holy and mighty to him.

“You had no other choice. I didn’t know that at the time but I do now. You did it for your family because you love them. I would have too. I’m sure the majority of people would as well. I don’t blame you.”

Draco bits his tongue. He wants to be snide, crass, but he’s not actually angry.

In a display of vulnerability, Draco says, “Thanks.”

Nothing else. Quick and short. Staring down at the water lap at the few pebbles in the ground.

Potter nods.

The sun is warm but the wind whips back and forth across his face, he absently curls his wings around him slightly surprised at how much warmth they offer.

His heart stops.

Did he remember to put the spell on?

He snapped his head down to stare at his lap, there was nothing there. Thank Merlin. He put the spell on, he did.

If Potter was confused by his suddenness, he made no comment.

It was after a couple more moments of silence with Draco stroking along his tail and Potter picking at the grass that they finally heard the roar of voices.

“Quidditch,” Draco whispered to himself.

“Quidditch,” Potter offered as an explanation.

They looked at each other and then away.

Draco could just imagine the beaming faces of students as they waited for the game to start. The players walking out on the field, that twinge of fear and excitement that came before every game. The thought of whether you would win or lose and what your house would think of you. The feeling of urgency to be better than the other houses. And perhaps it was just him, but the light feeling of soaring through the air, unrestrained by gravity and suddenly everything becomes so insignificant. 

He missed it, He hadn’t flown for a year or more. Not since the start of the war.

“Wanna watch the game with me?”

“Not really,” Draco blurted out before he could stop himself. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to watch it with Potter —although that was part of the reason—he more so didn’t want to watch something he couldn’t do.

“Oh.” Potter sounded offended. Draco felt slightly bad.

“It’s not because of you,” Draco assured, “I just don’t want to watch it knowing I can’t play.”

“Oh. Oh, yeah I get that.”

Draco nodded.

And then his stomach growled.

Potter chuckled at him and Draco couldn’t help the perk in his lips.

“Wanna grab some lunch?” Potter asked, already beginning to stand and Draco wondered for the first time, where that little eleven-year-old boy had gone.

“Yeah, yeah that sounds good.”

“Okay,” Potter offered his hand, “We’ll have to head down to the kitchens, I think the Great Halls would’ve stopped serving lunch.”

Draco took the hand and they pair made their way to the kitchens. They didn’t talk about much, Potter complained about having to share a room with Oliver Rivers and that  _ ‘the man had no sense of privacy!’  _ He didn’t mind Dean because they were friends but even a Muffler spell couldn’t stop Potter from knowing what was going on behind the curtains.

Draco laughed and nodded where he needed to but his mind felt disconnected from his body. Perhaps from the fact that this was so fucking strange.  _ This _ being Draco and Potter having a decent conversation and not even a hint of hostility between them. What had changed?

Draco shook away the thought, that was a question for another time.

“Word of warning, the house elves can be a little bit up front,” Potter said with a smile, turning his back to tickle the pear. Draco knew that but he let Potter have his moment and waited patiently for the kitchen door to open.

“Harry Potter!” The house elves cheer out, rushing to the man’s side immediately. “And he’s brought Mister Draco with him too!”

Draco smiled and looked around for Polby. He spotted her standing off to the side and stuck his tongue out. Polby’s eyes widened but she returned the gesture.

“Hey everyone, would you be able to whip us up some sandwiches?”

The house elves agreed with enthusiasm and scurried off, pots and pans and ingredients flying around the kitchen.

Potter and Draco took a seat and watched the chaos.

“I didn’t know they knew you?” Potter asked, his eyes watching each house elf.

Draco nodded, “I come down here quite a bit. Polby was the first one I met, she helped me with my, predicament…” He trailed off and Potter nodded in understanding.

“They’re nice.”

Draco hummed in agreement and that was that. They sat and waited for their sandwiches, thanked the house elves when it was finished, and then headed up to Draco’s dorm where they sat on his bed and began eating.

It was all so fucking weird.

“I don’t wanna — ” Potter struggled to find his words, “I want to help you.”

“What?”

“Let me help you with your wings.”

It was as though someone had flipped a switch and all Draco’s rage boiled to the top because he spat out the words, “What the fuck Potter.”

Potter’s eyes widened.

“You just have to help me, fucking Saint Potter. The  _ Chosen One _ . You always have to help the vulnerable and fucked up people, right?”

“What? No, Malfoy you’re not fucked up.”

“Oh really? I have fucking wings and a tail Potter, tell me how that’s not messed up.”

Potter looked down, “Well, it’s actually pretty cool.”

He words didn’t exactly process in his mind so Draco opened his mouth to argue back but quickly snapped it close.

“Wait, what?”

From where Draco was sitting, he would have sworn the infamous Harry Potter was blushing.

“You like it?” Draco asked suspiciously, his hand absently settling on his tail.

“Yeah, it looks like a dragon.”

“Huh.”

They sat in silence and Draco thought over a couple things.

“Okay,” He finally said and Potter looked up at him, “I’ll let you help me but just so you know, that means hanging out with Pansy and Blaise.”

Potter scrunched his face up but nodded, “I can do that.”

“Good.” Draco picked up a piece of fruit and offered it to Potter, “Apple?”

*****

Draco squeezed Pansy’s leg as he reads his Charm book. Blaise and she are chatting about the Quidditch game, apparently, it was a pretty good one between Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff.

“That Hufflepuff keeper, hot damn,” Blaise gushed waving around his pumpkin juice.

“Yeah,” Pansy agreed, “But she had nothing on the main Chaser from Ravenclaw, he was fast.”

“Yeah but speed over skill?”

“He was plenty of time to gain the skill, speed is a lot harder to gain.”

Draco nodded along with Pansy but also slightly agreed with Blaise.

“Where were you by the way?” Pansy asked squeezing his hand back.

“By the lake,” Draco swiftly answered because it wasn’t untrue.

“Uh huh and were you, by any chance, with someone?” Blaise asked nonchalantly, finally taking a sip of his juice.

“Yep,” Draco said with a pop of the p, which wasn’t the best idea.

Pansy laughed along with Blaise, “Draco honey, you really need to stop doing that when you lie.”

“Doing what,” Draco questioned setting his book down, he knew what they meant but feigning ignorance normally worked.

“Yep,” Blaise mocked and Pansy laughed.

“Shut up.” Draco rolled his eyes and reached across the table to slap Blaise’s head but he dodged.

“You were with Potter, weren’t you?”

“No…”

“Come on, darling, both of you were missing from the game.”

“Doesn’t mean a single thing,” Draco adamantly denied but it really, really did.

“We don’t care that much, we’re just interested in why. You’ve hated him since you laid eyes on him pretty much.”

Draco shrugged, he wanted to deny it but there was a bit of truth in it.

“It was nothing, he’s going to help us find a cure and that’s all.”

Pansy looked like she wanted to say something but she was stopped by the soft whooing of his father’s black owl.

It landed gracefully in front of him and held out his foot, Draco slipped the letter off quickly and tucked it into his robe. He didn’t want to read it right now.

“Off you go Malaki,” Draco whispered handing the bird a piece of ham and shooing it away. It ruffled its feathers and then took off, disappearing the same way it had appeared.

“What’s that?” Blaise leaned forward, setting down his juice which was nearly empty now.

“Huh? Oh, it's just a letter.” Draco grabbed his Charms book and downed the rest of his pumpkin juice, “I have a meeting, with McGonagall. See you in Potions.”

His friends stared at him suspiciously but they let him leave and didn’t ask any follow-up questions. They didn’t even follow. Thank Merlin because Draco practically sprinted down the hall to the nearest empty classroom and tore open the letter. He adjusted his robes as he sat down on the desk and began reading.

It was from his father.

_ ‘Draco Lucius Malfoy, _

_ I think its time I apologize for the life I gave you. I was a father perhaps too soon, I hadn’t learnt loss and humility and by the time I had, it was too late. You were not given the childhood you deserved and I am sorry. I remember the day you were born and the promise I made myself to be a better father than my own. I broke that promise. _

_ You are such a strong talented boy and have grown into a better than a man than I was. I made mistakes and forced you to make decisions that most adults wouldn’t have been able to. _

_ I was power hungry and I craved popularity. In turn, I forced those beliefs onto you. _

_ If I could go back and redo those eighteen years, I would. _

_ Never forget that you can always turn your life around. Forgive those that have wrong you and apologise to those that you have wronged. Don’t become like me, Draco. _

_ Make your own choices. _

_ Be your own man. _

_ You have always been my greatest achievement. _

_ I love you. _

_ Signed, _

_ Lucius Malfoy’ _

What the fuck.

Draco stared at the letter for the longest time, his eyes wet, and his mind running through possible scenarios. The letter was so out of the blue and so out of character. It made no sense.

The door of the classroom opened and Draco rushed to wipe his tears away.

“Oh, sorry mate —” Weasley trailed off, “Malfoy, you right?”

“I’m fine, Weasley,” Draco snarled and looked down.

From the corner of his eyes, Draco could see Weasley nod and begin to walk backwards, out the door but he paused at the last second.

“Listen, I’m sorry for being a dick to you. Not that you didn’t deserve it but I’m still sorry.”

Draco stared at him, almost expecting to see the young scrawny freckled kid in hand me down robes.

_ ‘Be your own man.’ _

Draco hopped off the desk and approached Weasley, who ever so slightly went into a defence position.

“I’m sorry too,” Draco said, tucking the letter into his robe, “I had no excuse for being a dick to you all those years. You are a good man.”

“Wow, uh, wasn’t expecting that,” Weasley chuckles, “Apology accepted though. You’re still a prick.”

Draco snorted, “I know.”

Weasley slapped his shoulder casually and then quickly brought his hand back down.

“Right well, see you in Potions I guess.”

Draco nodded.

Weasley pushed the door open but Draco quickly grabbed his arm.

“I’m sorry about your brother. I can’t imagine what that was like.”

Weasley looked at him strangely and then shrugged, “Yeah it sucks.”

Then he left and Draco slumped against the wall until the sound the footsteps wandering past the classroom made him realise classes were starting.


End file.
